THE  HANDS 
'COMPULSION 

AMELIA  E  BARR 


S  Qrr  t*O( 
Lv          .    s  Slvd 


THE  HANDS  OF  COMPULSION 


THE   HANDS 
OF    COMPULSION 

BY 

AMELIA  E.  BARR 


FRONTISPIECE      BY 

WALTER  EVERETT 


NEW    YORK 

DODD,    MEAD    &    COMPANY 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,    1909,    BY 
DODD,    MEAD     &     COMPANY 

Published,  March,  igog 


URL' 


er-^n* 


I  INSCRIBE  THIS  STORY 

WITH  AFFECTIONATE  RESPECT, 

TO  MY  DEAR  FRIEND 

MRS.   LOUIS   KLOPSCH 

AMELIA  Ei  BARR 

DECEMBER,  1908. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  PRETTY  ANNIE  BRODICK                                        i 

II  ANNIE'S    ENGAGEMENT         .        .        .        .18 

III  MRS.    LOCHRIGG'S   OPINIONS        ...      34 

IV  THE    DEACON    is    REPROVED        .        .        .51 
V    LOVERS    ALL 83 

VI  THE  GATE  OF  SORROW        .        .        .        .115 

VII  ROY  ACCUSES   HIMSELF        .        .        .        .141 

VIII  THE    BEGINNING    OF    FORGETFULNESS        .     161 

IX  A    LITTLE    TOO    LATE        .        .        .        .190 

X  THE    DEACON    MARRIES    AGAIN        .        .     207 

XI  ANNIE'S     NEW     LIFE          ....    232 

XII  MARION  FINDS  THE  WAY  HOME        .        .     254 

XIII  THE  EARL  AND  ANNIE  BRODICK        .        .    275 

XIV  EAST  OR  WEST,  HOME  is  BEST        .        .        .    303 


CHAPTER   ONE 

PRETTY  ANNIE  BRODICK 

BETWEEN  the  fertile  shores  of  Ayrshire  and  the 
rugged  peninsula  of  Kintyre  lies  the  beautiful  island 
of  Arran;  famous  for  the  grandeur  and  loveliness  of 
its  natural  scenery,  but  far  more  famous  for  the 
many  romantic  ties  which  link  it  to  the  world,  and  to 
the  church  universal.  For  here  the  mighty  Fingal 
kindled  his  signal  fires  when  the  fleet  of  Agricola 
darkened  the  waters  of  the  Clyde.  Here  Ossian — » 
the  King  of  many  songs — came  to  wait  for  that  dark 
and  narrow  house,  whose  mark  is  one  grey  stone. 
Here  settled  the  great,  silent,  fighting  Norsemen, 
who  hated  lies,  and  whose  religion  it  was  to  be  brave. 
Here  Robert  Bruce  lit  the  beacon  that  was  the  dawn 
of  Bannockburn.  Here  the  Stuarts  hunted  the  red 
deer,  and  Cromwell  hunted  the  adherents  of  the 
Stuarts. 

It  was  also  in  this  fair,  rugged  land  that  religion 
pure  and  undefiled  took  the  deepest  root;  for  what 
John  Knox  planted  there,  the  Covenanters  and  the 
Free  Kirk  perfected.  No  peasantry  in  the  whole 
world  are  so  proud  of  their  spiritual  lineage,  and  so 
learned  in  the  Holy  Book  that  makes  their  title  clear 


2  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

to  an  heavenly  inheritance — brave,  hardy,  thought- 
ful fishermen  and  farmers,  walking  erect  in  the  ever 
conscious  dignity  of  being  sons  of  God. 

Such  a  man  was  Robert  Brodick,  trader  and  fisher, 
whose  cottage  was  in  a  cleft  of  the  hills  between 
Brodick  Bay  and  the  coast  of  Corrie.  Five  hundred 
years  this  cottage  had  stood  in  its  naked,  granite 
strength.  It  had  quite  often  been  enlarged  and  re- 
thatched,  but  its  original  unmortared  stones  were 
as  perfect  as  when  Gillian  Brodick  first  laid  them 
on  the  lovely,  fertile  acres  given  him  by  Robert 
Bruce,  for  some  great  personal  service.  And 
through  that  five  hundred  years  Robert  Brodick 
could  name  his  ancestors — man  by  man — fighters  for 
truth  and  liberty,  and  followers  after  righteousness — 
a  spiritually  royal  lineage,  which  had  moreover  many 
peers  in  this  little  isle  of  the  Inner  Hebrides. 

One  evening  in  the  year  18 —  he  was  sitting  at 
the  open  door  of  his  house  watching  the  boats  drift 
slowly  out  to  the  fishing  ground.  He  was  then  fifty- 
five  years  old,  healthy  and  handsome,  with  the  mas- 
sive stature  of  his  people,  a  simple,  dignified  manner, 
and  a  disposition  serious,  shrewd  and  straightfor- 
ward— the  disposition  of  a  man  whose  heart  is  within 
his  head,  and  who  is  therefore  likely  to  keep  an  even 
balance  between  his  moral  emotions  and  his  mental 


Pretty   Annie   Brodick  3 

keenness.  Anywhere,  and  under  any  circumstances, 
he  would  have  been  instantly  known  as  the  most  out- 
standing of  Scotchmen — Scotch  as  the  thistle  on  the 
Scotch  hills  around  him. 

But  as  he  sat  by  his  open  door  this  evening,  there 
was  nothing  aggressive  about  the  man;  he  was  soft- 
ened and  made  responsive  to  his  best  self,  both  by 
inward  and  outward  influences — inwardly,  well 
pleased  at  a  certain  circumstance  he  was  waiting  to 
tell  his  daughter,  meanwhile  musing  on  it  with  great 
satisfaction,  and  what  he  considered  justifiable  pride 
— outwardly,  all  nature  appeared  to  be  in  his  own 
mood  of  peace  and  thanksgiving.  The  majesty  of 
the  mountains  that  encircled  him — the  boundless 
ocean  at  his  feet — the  grandeur  of  the  setting  sun — 
the  evening  songs  of  the  birds — the  ethereal  perfume 
from  the  masses  of  wallflowers  around — all  these 
things  spoke  to  him  in  that  speech  which  only  the 
soul  understands.  And  he  sighed  happily,  and 
turned  his  face  heavenward,  and  unto  the  hills,  and 
over  the  blue  ocean,  and  whispered  softly  in  reply — 
"  the  sea  is  Thine,  and  Thou  made  it,  and  Thy 
Hands  fashioned  the  dry  land." 

After  a  moment's  pause  he  rose,  and  sighing  again, 
went  into  the  house  place  and  looked  around.  His 
daughter  was  not  there.  "  Where  at  all  is  the  las- 


4  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

sie?"  he  muttered.  "  She  ought  to  be  here  long  ere 
this  hour.  She  knows  well  I  like  to  have  her  com- 
pany as  I  sit  resting  myself  a  wee  in  the  evening." 

For  a  few  moments  he  pottered  around,  lifted  an 
almanac  and  looked  up  the  moon's  age,  took  the 
tongs  and  removed  a  big  lump  of  coal  from  the  fire, 
complaining  as  he  did  so  of  "  such  extravagance  as 
burning  fuel  just  to  look  at  the  blaze  o'  it " — then 
suddenly  he  went  to  the  stair  foot,  and  called  in  no 
uncertain  voice — 

"Annie  Brodick,  what  for  are  you  delaying? 
I'm  wanting  to  talk  to  you.  Have  you  fairly  for- 
gotten that  I  am  all  by  mysel'  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  downstairs  anon,  father." 

"  Make  yoursel'  in  a  hurry  then." 

"  No,  no !  "  and  the  voice  came  nearer  and  ended 
in  a  charming  little  laugh — "No,  no,  father! 
Hurry  isn't  wise-like.  It's  yourself  I've  heard  say 
many  a  time — '  there's  luck  in  leisure  ' — So  leisure 
a  wee,  I'll  be  there  anon." 

"  Anon  1  anon  1  "  the  disappointed  man  grumbled 
as  he  went  back  to  his  chair.  "  Just  think  o'  a  daugh- 
ter saying  *  anon '  to  her  father,  instead  o'  coming 
instanter  when  he  called  her. — The  world  is  all  agee 
these  last  twenty  years  or  mair." 

He  looked  round  the  world  again,  but  he  had 


Pretty  Annie   Brodick  5 

lost  patience  and  all  things  were  a  little  different. 
The  sun  was  lower,  the  mountains  and  waters  darker, 
and  the  wind  was  rising-  He  thought  it  best  to 
carry  his  chair  inside,  and  he  did  not  do  so  without 
the  reflection  that  Annie  always  carried  it  for  him, 
when  she  was  present. 

In  ten  minutes  he  heard  her  light  feet  coming 
down  the  stair,  and  he  tried  to  assume  the  look  of 
a  man  robbed  of  some  of  his  comforts.  But  the 
sight  of  Annie  dispelled  all  shadows;  when  she  was 
present  he  forgot  her  absence.  Yet  she  was  no  angel, 
either  physically  or  morally,  only  a  beautiful  woman 
with  cordial  eyes,  and  beaming  face,  a  glory  of 
loosely-bound  brown  hair,  and  a  tall,  erect  figure, 
graceful  in  all  its  movements.  She  charmed,  be- 
cause she  charmed,  and  if  any  of  us  had  been  her 
angel,  we  would  have  given  her  all  she  wanted. 

"  Well,  father,  here  I  am !  Are  you  needing  me 
in  particular?" 

He  glanced  up  at  her  with  the  demure  satisfaction 
of  an  undemonstrative  Scotchman,  and  asked — • 
"  What  for  are  you  wearing  that  bonnie  gown  to- 
night?" 

"Do  you  like  it,  father?" 

He  glanced  again  at  the  soft  blue  merino,  falling 
so  gracefully  from  its  silk  belt,  and  answered — 


6  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

"It's  just  extraordinar  becoming  to  you.  Hech! 
If  your  poor  mother,  that's  dead  and  gone,  could 
see  you  and  the  lasses  o'  this  day,  she  would  be  filled 
wi'  consternation." 

"  Admiration,  you  mean,  father." 

"  Not  I.  When  I  was  a  youngster,  the  lasses 
were  wise-like,  and  a  man  could  hope  to  find  a  pru- 
dent, loving  wife  among  them;  but  now!  Now,  God 
help  the  poor  lads !  " 

"  I'm  not  doubting  but  what  He'll  require  to 
help  them — unless  they  begin  to  improve  themselves. 
Women  can  not,  and  will  not,  be  kept  back,  because 
the  men  folk  won't  go  forward.  Progress  is  our 
motto,  father." 

"  To  be  sure.  And  you  call  going  over  precipices 
— Progress !  " 

"  And  what  may.  you  call  going  over  precipices, 
father?" 

"  What  you  call  *  athletic  clubs '  for  one  thing. 
My  old-fashioned,  decent  principles,  Annie,  won't 
permit  me  to  admire  women  who  do  their  athletics 
in  public:" — and  he  sniffed  scornfully,  and  let  his 
stick  strike  the  ground  with  all  the  emphasis  of  a 
stamping  foot. 

"  Maybe  they  had  better  do  them  in  public  than 
in  their  own  homes.  Nelly  Thompson  thrashed  her 


Pretty  Annie    Brodick  7 

goodman  last  week  with  locked  doors  between  her 
and  the  public,  and  the  poor  body  isn't  over  the 
thrashing  she  gave  him  yet.  But  then  he  deserves 
more  than  he  got — so  she  says." 

"  Thompson  is  a  meeserable  drunken  man  as  ever 
lived.  I'm  not  blaming  Nelly.  Whiles  women  have 
to  take  the  upper  hand.  They  have  done  so  from 
the  beginning." 

"  Women  won't  marry  drunkards  in  the  future. 
They  are  learning  too  much  for  that  folly." 

"Sure!  Learning!  Of  course,  of  course.  Women 
were  the  first  to  pull  an  apple  from  the  tree  of 
Knowledge,  and  I  have  no  doubt  whatever,  that 
they  are  now  bent  on  stripping  the  tree  from  the  top- 
most branch.  They  begin  with  the  little,  low 
branches  when  they  are  bairns,  and  they  go  up,  and 
up,  till  they  are  clean  out  o'  ordinar  sight  and  under- 
standing." 

"  We're  getting  on  bravely,  father.  I'm  proud 
to  say  it.  Look  at  myself  for  instance.  I'm  not 
taking  advantage  o'  you,  as  some  daughters  would, 
but  I  say  plainly,  I  stand  more  on  stepping  stones 
than  my  poor  mother  ever  felt  free  to  do." 

1  Your  poor  mother !  What  are  you  meaning  ? 
Weel,  weel,  I  have  never  been  a  match  for  one 
woman — if  she  was  civil — and  I  am  not  fool  enough 


8  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

to  flyte  at  every  woman  in  the  village,  or  I  might 
say  in  the  whole  o'  Scotland,  no  to  speak  o'  England 
and  the  rest  o'  creation.  Let  that  subject  pass,  it 
isn't  what  I  want  speech  with  you  about,  this  night. 
We  have  wasted  time  already,  for  there's  a  Kirk 
session  at  the  half-hour  after  seven." 

"What  for  is  there  a  session  to-night?" 

"  Anent  an  organ  for  the  Kirk." 

"Simple  foolishness!  There's  no  occasion  for 
an  organ.  Our  choir  is  as  fine  as  can  be.  I'm  clear 
against  the  expense  o'  it." 

"  You  were  strong  about  that  grand  piano  for  the 
Woman's  Club." 

"  That  was  altogether  a  different  circumstance." 

"  I'll  likely  bring  the  Minister  back  with  me,  and 
you  can  get  him  on  your  side  o'  the  argument;  for 
he's  your  lover — reputit — and  this  afternoon  he  con- 
fessed the  same.  Most  respectful  he  spoke  to  me, 
as  was  only  proper  and  becoming." 

"Father,  whatever  are  you  havering  about?" 

"  About  that  fine  young  man,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Saun- 
ders.  You  don't  require  to  be  told  what  you  know 
well.  And  I  say  this,  he  is  as  good  a  man,  as  any 
sinful  woman  ever  had  the  offer  of,  for  a  husband." 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  is." 

'"  A  handsome,  clever  young  minister  forgetting 


Pretty  Annie   Brodick  9 

his  books  for  your  sake!  What  are  you  expecting, 
Annie  Brodick?  " 

"  Not  the  Minister.  He  is  the  last  o'  my  expecta- 
tions— and  I  may  say  o'  my  wishes." 

"  He  signified  his  intention  of  coming  here  after 
the  session,  and  he  will  doubtless  be  offering  him- 
self to  you.  Now,  I  am  heart  and  soul  with  the  Min- 
ister, and  I  hope  you  will  not  dare  to  counter  me  in 
this  matter." 

"Father,  how  can  I  marry  the  Minister?  I 
fairly  hate  his  becks  and  bows,  and  his  *  Miss 
Brodick's,'  his  small  white  hands,  and  his  tight-fit- 
ting *  blacks.*  I,  that  have  lived  all  my  life  among 
men  with  the  sea  and  the  wind  in  their  hair — men 
who  come  home  day  after  day  with  that  grand  look 
on  their  faces,  that  is  only  got  by  those  who  wrastle 
with  winds  and  waves  in  the  very  presence  of  death. 
I,  that  know  men  best  in  their  blue  Guernseys,  and 
big  sea  boots,  and  their  storm  '  oils  ' !  The  Minister 
is  not  my  kind.  He  is  good,  and  he  may  be  great  in 
his  way,  but  I  know  lads  that  are  ten  feet  high  be- 
side him." 

"  But  the  good  man  is  loving  you,  loving  you,  he 
says,  parfectly  and  unspeakably." 

"  I'm  not  caring  for  him  to  speak.  What  would 
a  girl  like  myself  do  in  a  manse?  And  it  is  a  Glas- 


io  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

gow  pulpit  he  is  seeking,  and  how  could  I  live  in  the 
city,  and  away  from  the  sight  and  the  sound  o'  the 
sea?  I  could  not.  It  is  simply  unthinkable,  father." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Annie.  The  Minister  is  well-to- 
do.  It  is  not  a  stipend  he  is  depending  on.  He  has 
dry  siller  in  the  Bank  o'  Scotland,  and  O  my  dear 
lass,  I  would  be  fain  and  proud  to  see  you  marriet 
on  him.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  belong  to  the  Kirk 
and  the  ministry." 

"  Maybe,  father,  it  is  just  as  great  to  belong  to 
the  men  who  belong  to  the  sea.  The  first  Kirk  was 
a  boat,  and  the  first  ministers  came  out  o'  the  boats. 
I  am  clear-minded  to  marry  among  my  own  people. 
Until  my  mother  died,  you  were  in  the  boats  your- 
sel',  father,  and  when  you  stood  at  the  wheel  o'  The 
Maggie  Brodick  and  led  forty  sails  to  the  fishing 
grounds  o'  the  great  North  Sea,  you  were  in  as  fine 
a  pulpit  as  man  ever  stepped  to;  and  you  would  not 
have  changed  it  for  the  velvet-covered  one  in  any 
Glasgow  Kirk.  I  ken  that,  sure !  " 

"  You  ken  nothing  o'  the  dignity  and  power  o' 
the  pulpit.  I'm  not  expecting  any  lass  to  do  that. 
We'll  drop  the  subject.  Just  consider  a  moment  the 
siller  the  man  has,  I  was  hearing  it  named  at  £5000. 
He  has  been  aye  preaching  Progress  to  you  women 
folk,  and  he  canna  go  behind  his  own  words.  So 


Pretty   Annie   Brodick  11 

then,  he  has  the  means  to  let  you  take  time  and  op- 
portunity to  *  progress '  to  the  end  o'  the  world,  if 
you  want  to  go  that  far." 

"  I  can  go  further  than  that,  without  his  siller  or 
his  teaching.  I'm  not  belittling  money,  not  I,  and 
I  would  never  refuse  it  at  any  reasonable  exchange. 
But  to  marry  the  Rev.  Mr.  Saunders,  and  me  not 
loving  him,  would  be  a  sworn  lie  to  God  and  man. 
You  would  never  ask  me  to  forswear  my  own  soul !  " 

"  I  would  cut  out  my  tongue  first." 

"  I  know  that." 

"  There  is  one  more  counsel  to  give  you — if  you'll 
take  it,  Annie, — men  of  the  sea  differ.  Some  are 
good,  and  some  are  bad;  and  I'll  tell  you  plainly, 
that  Roy  Morrison  is  not  an  improving  companion 
for  any  good  girl.  I  am  saying  nothing  against  his 
brother  Willie,  but  Roy  is  not  what  he  should  be. 
You  be  to  take  care  o'  yoursel'  wi'  the  like  o'  Roy 
Morrison,  my  lass." 

"  Have  you  heard  any  special  ill  of  Roy  Morri- 
son, father?" 

"  There  is  a  story  afloat  to-day,  but  it  isna  fully 
proved  yet.  I  wonder  you  haven't  heard  it  from 
some  one  or  ither.  But  this,  or  that,  I  have  taken 
the  lad's  measure,  and  I  think  him  but  a  poor  crea- 
ture. I  am  judging  him  myself.  I  heard  him  talk- 


12  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

ing  about  women  a  few  days  ago  to  Robert  Sennex, 
and  I  know  this — when  lads  give  bad  characters  to 
young  women,  they  have  worse  characters  them- 
selves." 

"Why  did  you  let  him  do  it,  father?" 

"  I  did  not  let  him  do  it.  I  very  quickly  told 
him  that  the  lad  who  spoke  ill  of  women  murdered 
his  own  mother's  good  name.  He  is  a  cunning, 
stealthy  lad,  and  you  will  require  to  read  him  back- 
ward. Forbye  he  has  got  up  an  ugly  quarrel  with 
his  brother  Will  anent  you." 

"  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  lads  who  make 
quarrels  out  o'  me;  and  I  shall  tell  both  o'  the  Morri- 
sons that  much,  quickly.  What  were  you  hearing 
about  the  quarrel,  father?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  heard.  It  seems  Will 
Morrison  bought  a  new  boat — just  a  small  yawl — 
and  he  called  her  The  Annie  Brodick.  And  Roy 
Morrison  also  bought  a  new  yawl,  and  he  called  his 
The  Bonnie  ^Annle.  Last  night  some  ill-willy  fool 
passed  a  smirch  o'  black  paint  over  the  name  on 
Will's  boat,  and  he  is  thinking  it  was  his  brother 
Roy's  doing — and  saying  so." 

"  It  was  a  shameful  thing  for  anyone  to  do.  It 
was  my  name  they  blacked.  Are  you  minding  that 
fact,  father?" 


Pretty  Annie   Brodick  13 

"  Is  it  at  all  likely  I'm  forgetting  it?  See  that 
you  keep  it  in  mind.  If  Will  does  not  get  at  the 
truth,  I  shall  sift  the  facts  myseF  till  no  lie  is  left 
in  them." 

"  I  cannot  think  Roy  did  a  wicked  thing  like  that. 
Roy  and  Will  were  always  brotherly " 

"  Until  you  came  between  them." 

"Father!" 

"They  weren't  very  brotherly  as  I  passed  them 
this  afternoon.  Will  was  stroking  his  arms  bare  to 
the  shoulder — just  asking  for  a  fight,  you  ken — and 
Roy  went  by  him  wi'  such  an  ironical  look,  and  such 
a  scornful  laugh,  as  might  well  raise  the  deil  in  any 
heart  not  full  o'  the  grace  o'  God." 

"  Does  Roy  admit  that  he  did  the  shameful 
thing?" 

"  Roy  admits  nothing.  Like  a  Scotchman  in  a 
strait,  he  gets  behint  his  questions.  *  Does  anybody 
think  he  would  do  the  like?  Will  anybody  say  he 
did  do  it?  Was  it  likely  he  would  blacken  the  name 
he  loves  best  in  a'  the  world  ?  Do  folks  take  him  for 
a  fool?  What  would  he  make  by  such  a  dirty 
trick  ? '  and  the  like  remarks.  And  all  the  time  storm- 
ing and  swaggering  like  the  sea  gone  mad.  I'll  just 
leave  the  story  to  your  consideration,  Annie.  Make 
what  you  think  out  o'  it,  but  if  you  would  be  guided 


14  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

into  the  safety  and  respectability,  the  Minister  could, 
and  would  give  you " 

"  Father,  the  Minister  is  clean  out  o'  the  question." 

"  Well,  well,  I  see  that  I  have  spoken  too  late.  I'll 
away  to  the  byre,  and  look  after  the  beasts  before  I 
go  to  the  Kirk.  And  it  comes  to  my  heart  this  night, 
how  the  Almighty  Father  felt,  when  he  said  by  his 
servant  Isaiah — the  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the 
ass  his  master's  crib,  but  Israel — his  bairns,  you  ken 
• — doth  not  know;  my  people — my  bairns — do  not 
consider." 

"  Father,  I'm  fairly  ashamed  o'  you  likening  your 
own  leal,  loving  daughter  to  those  headstrong,  mur- 
muring Jews,  that  no  King  could  govern,  and  that 
God  himself  couldn't  please.  It  isn't  kind  o'  you. 
It  isn't  just.  You  know  well  I  shall  do  the  thing 
that  is  right,  if  I  break  my  heart  to  do  it." 

"What  talk  is  there  of  breaking  hearts?  All  par- 
feet  nonsense!  A  good  heart  never  breaks.  It  has 
no  occasion  to  break.  What  you  cannot  change,  you 
can  call  *  the  will  of  God,'  and  if  you  will  what  God 
wills,  then  there  is  peace.  Never  let  me  hear  you 
speak  again  of  any  such  foolishness  as  a  breaking 
heart." 

He  waited  for  no  reply,  and  Annie  was  not  in- 
clined to  make  one.  She  walked  into  the  garden, 


Pretty  Annie   Brodick  15 

and  leaning  on  the  stone  wall  that  surrounded  it,  let 
the  fresh  breeze  blow  into  her  hair  and  face,  and  her 
eyes  wander  over  the  beautiful  land.  The  sun  had 
set,  but  there  was  still  a  mist  of  gold  and  purple 
over  the  mountains,  standing  like  a  great  host  at 
rest;  yet  opening  out  here  and  there,  into  wistful 
stretches  of  daffodil  sky.  The  heavens  were  full  of 
stars,  which  threw  into  the  grey  twilight  a  white 
sidereal  radiance.  Suddenly  a  thrush  sang  out  joy- 
ously, and  its  song  found  a  quick  echo  in  Annie's 
hopeful  heart: — 

"  You  bonnie  bird,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  her 
head  to  the  bush  where  the  minstrel  sang  above  his 
brooding  mate — "  You  bonnie,  bonnie  bird!  If  you 
can  trust,  I  can  trust.  If  you  can  love,  I  can  love. 
If  you  can  sing,  I  can  sing;  "  and  forthwith  the  soft, 
still  night  was  thrilled  with  a  melody  so  simple,  and 
so  exquisite,  that  all  nature  seemed  to  listen  to  the 
liquid  music  of  notes,  that  lovers  have  sung  for  a 
thousand  years,  and  may  sing  for  a  thousand  years 
longer — if  Love  lives,  and  music  lives  to  speak  for 
love : — 


"  I  love  ne'er  a  laddie  but  one, 

He  loves  ne'er  a  lassie  but  me; 
He  is  willing  to  make  me  his  own, 
And  his  own  I  am  willing  to  be." 


1 6  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

The  disappointed  and  unhappy  father  listened,  and 
sighed  heavily,  and  at  the  same  time — almost  uncon- 
sciously— gave  the  beasties  an  extra  armful  of  fod- 
der. Memory  was  busy  with  his  heart — his  wife  had 
sung  the  same  song  to  him — he  recalled  one  might 
in  particular,  then  suddenly  checking  his  reminiscent 
self,  and  muttering  "  There's  no  fool  like  an  old 
fool,"  he  locked  his  barn,  and  going  to  the  house,  put 
on  rapidly  his  street  coat,  and  with  it  such  reasonable 
reflections  as  a  proposed  Kirk-session  called  forth. 

Annie  walked  to  the  gate  and  opened  it  for  him, 
and  he  said  sarcastically — though  the  sarcasm  was 
veined  all  through  with  unsuspected  pathos — 

"  I  wouldn't  turn  poetical  for  any  sake,  Annie." 

"Poetical?" 

"  Ay,  I  heard  you  singing — love  songs — I  infer." 

"  Ay,  just  love  songs.  What  for  not  ?  I  was  sing- 
ing the  truth,  and  there's  nothing  so  poetical  as  the 
truth." 

"What  are  you  saying?  You  know  well  that 
truth  and  poetry  are  far-off  acquaintances." 

"Tut,  father!  Take,  for  instance,  King  David's 
poetry.  No  finer  was  ever  written,  and  all  because 
it  is  the  evendown  truth.  Good  poetry  is  always 


true." 


"  I  have  not  the  time  to  refute  you  now.    I'll  set 


Pretty  Annie   Brodick  17 

you  straight  some  other  hour;"  and  he  went  dourly 
forward.  But  when  he  was  a  little  further  down 
the  hill,  he  heard  a  faint,  and  fainter  echo  of  the 
words  he  knew  so  well — 

"  I  loved  ne'er  a  laddie  but  one, 

He  loved  ne'er  a  lassie  but  me; 
He's  willing  to  make  me  his  own, 
And  his  own  I  am  willing  to  be." 

And  with  his  stick  he  struck  to  the  ground  a  bunch 
of  nettles  he  was  passing,  muttering  as  he  did  so, 
"  I'm  feared  there's  mair  truth  than  poetry  in  that 
old  song — it  is  a  troublesome  world — What  for  are 
we  wanting  organs? — there's  no  comfort  in  an  or- 
gan. I'll  just  vote  against  it." 


ANNIE'S  ENGAGEMENT 

WHEN  the  song  was  finished  Annie  stood  as  still  as 
if  she  was  listening  for  its  echo.  Perhaps  she  was. 
Also,  the  silent  spaces  of  the  Spring  evening — em- 
balmed in  perfume  of  wallflowers — was  wonderfully 
alluring.  The  bat's  fine  cry,  almost  too  fine  for  com- 
mon ears,  was  all  the  landward  sound  audible;  but 
on  the  beach  below,  the  waves  were  coming  up  among 
the  pebbles  with  a  lively  cadence.  She  was  about 
to  go  into  the  house  when  she  heard  a  step  and  a 
voice  that  made  her  heart  ring  to  the  tune  they  set. 
For  she  had  been  expecting  Roy  Morrison.  She  felt 
sure  that  he  would  throw  up  every  engagement,  in 
order  to  come  and  clear  himself  in  her  eyes.  If 
he  did  not,  she  was  prepared  to  count  his  delay 
against  him.  But  Roy  was  going  to  come  up  to  her 
expectation,  and  she  glowed  and  beamed  with  satis- 
faction, as  she  stood  leaning  on  the  old  wall  watch- 
ing his  approach. 

"  Now  I  shall  have  the  truth,  and  the  whole 
truth,"  she  mused;  "  and  things  aren't  going  one  bit 
farther  between  us  until  I  get  it." 

The  next  moment  Roy  saw  her,  as  if  shining  in 

18 


Annie's   Engagement  19 

the  dim  twilight;  a  little  white  scarf  across  her  shoul- 
ders, and  a  white  bow  at  her  throat.  And  he  waved 
his  cap  above  his  head,  and  came  forward  as  rapidly 
as  the  ascent  permitted.  He.  was  a  dark,  slim  youth ; 
much  sunburned,  with  curling  hair,  splendid  teeth, 
and  a  voice  that  might  wile  a  bird  from  a  tree.  But 
manner  is  the  physiognomy  of  the  mind,  and  a  finer 
index  to  the  character  than  the  face.  And  Roy's 
manner  was  not  an  assuring  one.  Women  generally 
accepted  him  at  his  own  valuation,  and  he  appeared 
guileless  to  them;  but  men  saw  that  he  never  did 
anything  without  reflecting  whether  he  had  bettei 
do  it.  He  was  full  of  small  alluring  faults,  that 
women  defended  and  even  forgave;  but  men  made 
a  clearer  estimate  of  their  reason  and  tendencies, 
and  therefore  in  spite  of  his  ha!  ha!  manner,  they 
judged  him  to  be  selfish  and  untruthful,  and  that 
without  any  moral  disquietude. 

"  His  faults  are  in  the  grain  o'  his  nature,  and 
what  will  you  do,  when  that  is  the  case?  "  asked  an 
old  fisherman  of  a  little  company  discussing  Roy. 
"  There's  no  moral  or  spiritual  atmosphere  about  the 
lad,  so  then  it  stands  to  reason,  people  feel  uncom- 
fortable wi'  him." 

"  Right,  Campbell,  you  are  perfectly  right  there," 
answered  an  old  schoolmate  of  Roy's;  "  in  a  theo- 
logical  sense,  he  seems  incapable  o'  grace." 


2O  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"I'm  not  so  sure  o'  that,"  interrupted  a  young 
fisher.  "I  lay  it  doon  as  a  fundamental  principle, 
that  if  a  good  woman  takes  up  wi'  a  man,  there's 
good  somewhere  in  that  man.  And  when  a  man  loves 
a  good  woman,  you  needna  put  him  down  as  clean 
outside,  and  beyond  the  grace  o'  God.  Now,  Annie 
Brodick  is  setting  Roy  above  all  the  men  she  knows, 
and  Roy  is  spelling  Life  with  one  word,  and  that 
word  is,  Annie.  I'd  put  them  two  facts  together, 
and  give  Roy  the  benefit  o'  them." 

"  Surely,"  answered  Campbell.  "  Give  the  lad 
fair  play,  but  if  any  o'  you  are  thinking  o'  making  a 
friend  o'  Roy  Morrison,  I  would  advise  you  to  get 
acquaint  wi'  him,  as  carefully  as  you  did  wi'  your 
first  razor — and  then,  I'm  feared  you'll  find  in 
the  end,  the  usual  accident  wi'  razors  has  befallen 
ypu." 

This  conversation  represented  fairly  enough  the 
divided  opinion  about  the  young  man;  but  Annie 
heard  little  of  the  village  gossip.  .  Her  position  as 
Robert  Brodick's  heiress,  and  the  superior  education 
she  had  received,  set  her  apart  from  the  ordinary 
fisher  or  farm  girl.  And  Annie  knew  her  advantages, 
and  was  well  inclined  to  take  them  at  their  full  value. 
She  had  always  listened  with  scorn  to  the  innuendoes 
against  Roy  coming  from  the  village,  and  even  her 


Annie's   Engagement  21 

father's  story  of  the  painting  out  of  her  own  name, 
did  not  strike  her  as  a  likely  one. 

"  Roy  is  a  prudent  man  about  his  own  welfare," 
she  reflected,  "  far  too  prudent  to  risk  the  loss  o'  my 
love,  and  my  hand,  for  a  bit  of  spite  like  yon — and 
against  his  own  brother,  too.  I'm  not  believing  a 
word  o'  such  an  unlikely  tale.  I  shall  ask  him  plainly 
about  the  matter  this  very  hour,  and  he'll  give  me 
the  negative,  straight  and  strong,  no  doubt  o'  that." 

And  when  Roy  stood  at  her  side,  and  throwing  his 
arms  around  her,  cried  with  the  passionate  hurry  of 
love,  "  Annie,  Annie,  my  beauty!  My  darling  Annie! 
come  down  to  the  water  side,  and  have  a  walk  and  a 
talk  with  me !  "  she  had  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  con- 
cerning Roy's  innocence  left.  Then  she  grew  sud- 
denly ten  times  lovelier.  The  ancient  ecstasies  of 
youth  and  love  filled  her  heart,  and  it  throbbed  like  a 
hive  in  June: — 

"  I  would  like  to  walk  down  to  the  water,  Roy," 
she  answered,  "  but  father  has  gone  to  a  Kirk  meet- 
ing, and  he  does  not  care  to  have  the  house  left  to 
the  servant  lass." 

"I'm  glad  the  auld  man  is  out,  my  beauty!  If 
he  was  here,  he  would  be  sure  to  say  '  You  can't  go, 
Annie;  it  is  too  late,  and  near  the  exercise';  or, 
*  There's  a  fog  coming  from  the  east,'  or  the  like  o' 


22  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

that.  Take  your  ain  leave  for  once.  You  arena  a 
bairn  now." 

"  Ay,  but  I  am.     I'm  father's  bairn,  always." 

Then  they  sat  down  together  on  the  garden  wall, 
and  after  a  while  Roy  asked,  "  What  time  will  the 
auld  man  be  back?  " 

"  Do  not  speak  of  father  in  that  way,"  answered 
Annie.  "  I'm  not  liking  it.  Father  is  not  old.  He 
can  do  as  big  a  day's  work  yet  as  any  man  in  Arran ; 
and  he  has  neither  sign  nor  feel  of  old  age ;  God  for- 
ever bless  him  1  " 

"  I  am  meaning  no  harm,  Annie.  But  I  don't  for- 
get that  he  was  speaking  very  sharp  to  me,  a  few 
days  syne — and  I  can  tell  you,  I'm  not  liking  that. 
But  for  you,  my  dearie,  I  would  have  given  him 
as  good  as  he  sent." 

"  Whatever  were  you  saying,  Roy,  to  make  father 
sharp  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  saying  a  few  words  to  Will  Sennex 
about  Mattie  Robinson,  and  her  lovers.  The  lass  is 
a  very  butterfly  o'  vanity  and  conceit,  and  any  lad 
that  will  flatter  her  can " 

"  Roy,  I'm  not  caring  to  hear  about  Mattie  Rob- 
inson. It  is  few  people  know  her  well  enough  to 
judge  her." 

"  Maybe,  but  there  is  not  a  man  or  woman  between 
here  and  Inachar  that  does  not  ken  how  poor  Archie 


Annie's   Engagement  23 

Lagg  is  treated  by  that  wife  o'  his.  Whiles,  she 
won't  let  him  go  into  his  ain  kitchen — *  Oot  o'  here, 
Archie  Lagg,'  she  cries;  'the  kitchen  isna  a  man- 
body's  parish.'  No  wonder  the  man  is  driven  to 
Lucky  Laird's  public.  But  that  isn't  the  worst  o' 
the  creature,  she  won't  go  to  the  Kirk  her  husband 
thinks  she  ought  to  go  to.  She  tells  him  she  can 
think  for  herself." 

"  How  can  she  have  the  presumption  ? "  asked 
Annie  with  a  dubious  little  laugh,  whose  mocking 
character  Roy  did  not  notice.  "  Jenny  Lagg  must 
have  got  fairly  beyond  herself;  Saint  Paul  would 
never  have  believed  such  a  woman  within  the  possi- 
bilities-" 

"  Indeed  he  would  not,"  answered  the  unsuspicious 
young  man.  "  You  know,  Annie,  it  is  the  Scripture 
rule  that  women  shall  ask  their  husbands  about 
things  they  are  just  naturally  ignorant  of.  And  I 
was  just  saying  this,  and  that,  about  women  in  gen- 
eral, when  the  auld  man — I  mean  your  father — 
snapped  me  up  wi'  a  very  impertinent  remark  about 
my  ain  mother.  I  don't  know  what  was  in  his  mind, 
he  was  in  a  most  provoking  temper." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  was  in  his  mind,  Roy;  he  was 
hearing  something  I  cannot  believe  possible  about 
your  brother  Will's  boat." 

"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  meaning." 


24  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Someone  was  saying  that  it  was  you  yourself 
that  did  the  deed  —  but  I  am  sure  that  is  simply 
unthinkable." 

"  Of  course.  Of  course  it  is.  Would  I  for  any 
thing  smirch  the  name  o'  the  woman  I  love  better 
than  my  own  life  ?  I  would  be  a  born  fool  to  do  it. 
I  would  think  shame  o'  myself  forever." 

They  had  in  their  sauntering  reached  a  little  gar- 
den seat,  and  Roy  sat  down  and  drew  Annie  lovingly 
to  his  side.  He  then  tried  to  turn  the  conversation, 
but  Annie  was  not  satisfied. 

"  Roy,"  she  said,  "  I'm  not  doubting  you,  but  no- 
body would  believe  how  this  report  troubles  me;  and 
what  I  am  requiring,  is,  that  you  give  me  the  denial 
straight,  and  strong,  and  plain.  Plenty  of  folk  will 
anon  bring  the  ill  story  to  me,  and  I  want  to  be  able 
to  speak  the  words  for  you,  that  you  may  perhaps 
be  too  proud,  and  too  angry,  to  speak  for  yourself. 
So  then,  my  dear  Roy,  did  you  paint  your  brother's 
boat-name  out!  Or  did  you  not?" 

"  I  did  not  do  it,  Annie.  I  never  laid  a  finger  on 
Will's  boat.  Whatever  way  can  I  make  it  clearer  to 
you?  I  will  swear  it,  if  you  want  me  to  take  God 
to  witness  an  oath  anent  such  a  dirty  trick." 

"  No,  no !  If  I  could  not  take  your  word,  Roy,  I 
would  think  still  less  o'  your  oath.  Yes,  or  no,  is 


Annie's   Engagement  25 

enough  for  any  man  to  say;  more  is  just  a  weak- 
ness." 

"I  say,  No!  then." 

"  That  is  all  I  want." 

"And  I'll  be  upsides  with  them  that  set  you  to 
question  an  honest  man  that  loves  you.  Such  a  like 
stir  and  fuss  to  make  about  nothing  but  a  few  painted 
letters." 

"  Roy!    Whatever  are  you  saying?" 

"  I'm  saying,  a  few  painted  letters,  in  a  place 
where  they  had  neither  right  nor  reason  to  be.  What 
business  had  Will  to  put  your  name  on  his  boat? 
Somebody  gave  him  what  he  deserved,  and  as  far 
as  Will  Morrison  is  concerned,  I'm  thinking  it  was 
neither  crime  nor  misdemeanor.  I'm  not  going, 
now,  into  what  we  may  call  the  ethics  o'  the  circum- 
stance." 

"  Keep  your  temper  in  hand,  Roy.  We  need  not 
discuss  the  ethics  of  the  matter  now,  for  you  have 
said  plainly  you  did  not  blacken  my  name." 

"  And  I'll  say  more,  Annie,  I'll  say  that  there  will 
be  a  bad  hour  for  whoever  did  do  it.  When  I  find 
the  scoundrel,  I'll  give  him  a  reminder  that  will  last 
his  life-days." 

"  If  you  lift  your  hand,  with  my  name  as  reason 
for  it,  I'll  never  change  speech  with  you  again. 


26  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

Never,  Roy  Morrison.  You  have  given  me  all  I 
want — a  clear,  straight  denial.  Tell  me  now,  who 
do  you  think  is  the  guilty  person?" 

"What  for  are  you  wanting  to  know  that?" 

"  Because  I  would  try  to  give — whoever  it  may  be 
' — a  very  decided  warning.  I  am  knowing  well  the 
look  I  saw  on  my  father's  face,  as  he  told  me  of 
the  shameful  bit  o'  malice — the  blacking  out  o'  my 
name — and  my  father's  name  too — for  you  know  fine 
his  name  is  far  beyond  a  stain;  and  there  isn't  man  or 
woman  in  Arran  that  can  show  a  more  honorable 
record." 

"  Sure  I  Deacon  Brodick  is  just  parf  ect  humanity. 
Every  one  from  Lamlash  to  Loch  Ranza,  and  even 
as  far  as  Glasgow  itsel',  has  heard  tell  o'  the  right- 
eousness o'  Deacon  Robert  Brodick.  What  did  the 
Deacon  say?  " 

"  He  said  very  little.  But  just  because  he  had  few 
words,  and  no  threats  in  his  mouth,  I  know  he  in- 
tends to  make  an  example  of  the  blackguard,  who- 
ever he  may  be.  So  I  would  fain  warn  him,  either 
to  confess  his  fault  to  the  Deacon,  and  so  get  his  for- 
giveness, or  else  put  himself  out  o'  the  reach  of  his 
just  anger.  If  you  have  a  likely  surmise  o'  the  man 
who  was  guilty  of  such  contemptible  spite,  I  wish 
you  would  give  me  his  name — in  confidence — Roy." 


Annie's   Engagement  27 

"  I  think  Will  Morrison  did  the  deed,  with  his 
ain  hands." 

'  You  are  not  knowing  what  you  say,  Roy." 

"  I  know  fine.  I  say  Will  Morrison  did  it  his 
ainsel'.  He  thought  I  would  get  the  blame  o'  it,  and 
so  lose  your  love  and  respect.  Confound  the  meeser- 
able  creature  I  " 

"  You  are  positively  mistaken,  Roy.  Will  did  not 
do  it.  I  would  as  soon  blame  myself.  An  act  like 
that  is  clean  below  and  beyond  him.  The  simple 
thought  of  blackening  his  heart  and  his  hands  in 
yon  way,  would  never  enter  Will's  mind.  You  fright 
me,  Roy.  You  fright  me.  If  I  could  believe  you— 
tut!  tut!  the  thing  is  impossible." 

"  What  for  will  you  set  yourself  in  such  a  blaze  o' 
passion?  Let  the  black  mark  pass.  We  have  sweeter 
things  to  talk  about.  I  am  asking  you  this  minute  to 
be  my  wife.  I  want  your  *  Yes.'  I  will  not  listen 
to  *  No.*  If  I  am  right  in  thinking  you  love  me, 
Annie,  say  *  Yes.'  I  am  that  anxious,  I  am  fairly 
trembling  with  the  fear  you  did  not  mean  aught  by 
the  smiles  you  have  blessed  me  with,  and  the  kiss  you 
have  let  me  take  this  very  night.  Annie,  my  sweet 
lassie,  say  'Yes.'  If  you  don't  I  shall  go  to  the 
mischief.  I  know  that." 

"  Whist,  Roy  1      Do  you  think  I  can  be  frighted 


28  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

into  marrying  you?  I  am  not  that  kind  of  a  woman. 
And  if  I  believed  you  were  a  man  likely  to  go  to  the 
mischief,  for  anything  that  a  woman  might  do  to 
you,  I  would  say  a  hundred-fold  *  No '  this  very 
minute.  But " 

"  But  you  will  trust  me,  Annie  ?  You  will  love 
me  in  spite  o'  all  my  shortcomings.  Oh,  my  bonnie 
Annie!  give  me  the  one  word  that  will  make  me 
prouder  than  King  or  Kaiser.  Will  you  be  my  wife, 
Annie?" 

And  love  imputes  no  motive,  sees  the  bright  side, 
puts  the  best  construction  on  everything;  and  has 
besides  many  reasons  that  reason  does  not  under- 
stand. So  Annie  said  '  Yes,'  and  then  permitted  her 
lover  to  taste  the  sweetness  of  her  surrender.  She 
allowed  herself  to  confess  that  she  loved  him,  that 
she  had  long  loved  him,  and  that  she  would  love  him, 
and  only  him,  to  the  end  of  her  life.  And  the  tide 
came  murmuring  up,  and  the  moon  rose  and  silvered 
the  seaward  stretches,  and  there  was  a  sense  of  dream- 
land in  the  sweet,  lovely  garden  where  they  told  their 
tale  of  love,  and  believed  it  to  be  something  sacred 
and  special  to  their  own  experience.  And  in  that  in- 
timate ardor  all  inquietude  was  dispelled. 

As  the  clock  struck  ten  the  Deacon  opened  the  gate 
and  saw  the  lovers  sitting  in  the  moonlight  on  the 


Annie's   Engagement  29 

seaward  wall.  He  saw  them  before  they  were  aware 
of  his  presence,  and  he  understood  their  attitude  of 
perfect  confidence  and  affection.  He  knew  then  what 
he  would  have  to  hear,  and  he  tried  to  prepare  him- 
self for  it.  If  Annie  was  resolved  to  marry  this  man, 
he  must  at  least  bear  his  disappointment  without 
whimpering,  and  with  such  silent  dignity  as  befitted 
an  officer  of  the  Kirk. 

It  was,  however,  a  bitter  trial,  for  he  found  out 
that  hour  how  great  was  his  dislike  for  Roy  Morri- 
son, and  how  much  he  feared  his  influence  over  his 
daughter.  Also,  he  felt  a  little  hard  toward  Annie. 
She  knew  that  Roy  was  most  objectionable  to  him. 
She  knew  that  he  mistrusted  his  moral  nature,  and 
that  the  general  feeling  in  the  village  was  a  preju- 
dice against  Roy  Morrison,  though  it  was  hard  to 
say  on  what  grounds  this  prejudice  existed.  For 
Roy  was  a  prompt  observer  of  all  that  the  little  com- 
munity held  in  respect — a  constant  sitter  in  the  Kirk, 
and  a  ready  helper,  whenever  there  was  any  stress 
of  extra  labor.  Still,  for  all  this  apparent  good  will, 
Roy  did  not  strike  the  right  note.  And  he  noticed 
with  bitter  anger  on  what  a  different  footing  his 
brother  Will  stood. 

Will  made  no  particular  efforts  to  please,  yet  every- 
one liked  him,  and  had  a  pleasant  word  and  smile  to 


30  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

give  him.  He  had  no  great  social  qualities,  no  funny 
stories  to  tell,  and  his  dancing  was  the  dancing  of 
a  heavy  man.  He  was  shy  with  women,  and  every 
unmarried  girl  knew  that  he  loved  Annie  Brodick, 
and  was  quite  insensible  to  the  charms  of  any  other 
beauty.  He  gave  no  gifts  but  to  children,  who  all 
adored  him ;  and  his  sole  claim  to  popular  favor  ap- 
peared to  be  a  good,  simple  heart  that  the  young- 
est understood,  and  the  oldest  and  poorest  put  their 
trust  in. 

"  If  it  had  been  Will  Morrison  1 "  said  the  father 
to  himself — "  if  it  had  only  been  Will !  I  wouldn't 
have  regretted  the  Minister  so  much.  I  could  have 
respectit  Will,  and  I  would  not  have  been  ashamed 
of  him  among  the  great  and  honorable  company  o' 
my  forefathers.  But  Roy !  Roy  is  different."  And 
the  Deacon  stirred  the  fire,  and  sat  down  full  of  a 
sad  disappointment.  "  Life  is  just  a  battle,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  and  we  cannot  shirk  it,  but,  Oh,  the  weari- 
ness of  wrastling  with  your  own  thoughts,  and  get- 
ting bruised  in  the  encounter!  Of  being  strong 
enough  to  fight  and  not  strong  enough  to  conquer. 
Ah! " 

Then  the  young  people,  who  had  been  notified  of 
his  return  home  by  the  blaze  on  the  hearth,  came 
towards  the  house.  He  heard  their  steps,  and  rose 


Annie's   Engagement  3 1 

from  his  chair  and  stood  waiting  their  approach.  He 
knew  what  was  going  to  be  said,  and  he  thought  he 
had  prepared  himself  for  the  words;  yet  when  Roy, 
with  the  pride  of  a  newly-engaged  man,  referred  to 
Annie  as  his  "  future  bride,"  the  Deacon  grimly 
smiled  and  answered — 

"  Weel,  weel,  that  will  do  for  a  passing  remark." 

"I  hope  you  have  no  objections,  Deacon?"  in- 
quired the  lover  with  a  slight  tone  of  offense  at  his 
want  of  appreciation. 

"  No,  no.  The  circumstance  is  not  likely  to  be 
far  out  o'  the  way,"  was  the  doubtful  reply. 

"  I  can  assure  you  that  I  love  Annie.  She  is  my 
first  love,  and  I  would  die  for  her." 

"  Nonsense,  man !  Only  fools  die  for  love.  Wise 
men  and  women  generally  live  to  thank  God  that 
they  did  not  get  the  first,  foolish  desire  o'  their  hearts. 
We  will  make  the  exercise  now — it  has  been  waiting 
more  than  fit,  on  your  self-seeking." 

When  the  worship  was  over,  Roy,  who  wished  to 
conciliate,  said  a  few  words  about  its  excellency,  add- 
ing, "  We  are  going  to  have  a  big  musical  reunion  in 
the  Village,  Deacon.  I  have  the  charge  of  it,  and  it 
would  be  a  great  thing  for  us  all,  if  you  would  take 
the  chair." 

But  the  Deacon  shook  his  head,  and  answered 


32  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

sharply — "  I'll  not  go  a  footstep.  A  musical  re- 
union 1  It  is  just  incredible  misery." 

Then  Roy  said  "Good-night."  He  felt  hurt, 
though  he  could  give  no  reason  for  the  feeling,  but 
he  revenged  himself  by  an  ostentatious  appropriation 
of  Annie,  and  a  long  whispered  conversation  outside 
the  door.  And  Annie  was  proud  and  silent  when 
she  came  back  to  her  father,  whose  dropped  head  and 
brooding  face  was  a  kind  of  reproach  that  irritated 
her. 

"  Roy  was  feeling  perfectly  annoyed,  father,"  she 
said.  "  He  was  thinking  you  were  not  pleased  with 
him  for  a  son-in-law." 

"  I  am  not.  The  lad  has  some  discernment,  I 
see." 

"  You  are  not  so  kind  as  you  should  be,  father. 
You  are  wanting  me  to  marry  that  wee  minister,  with 
his  scented  hair,  and  his  white  hands,  and  his  hopes 
of  a  Glasgow  pulpit.  I  don't  want  him,  and  it  is 
not  fair,  and  not  kind  to  force  on  me  a  husband  I 
can  neither  love  nor  respect." 

"  My  lass !  It  is  just  as  unfair,  and  just  as  unkind, 
to  force  on  me  a  son-in-law  that  I  can  neither  like 
nor  respect.  The  laws  of  the  household  are  equal 
laws.  There  is  not  one  law  for  the  parent  and  an- 
other law  for  the  child.  But  I  know  that  love  is  a 


Annie's   Engagement  33 

clamoring  selfishness,  and  that  it  will  put  on  any  dis- 
guise to  get  its  own  ends.  Go  to  your  bed,  Annie 
Brodick,  and  rest  and  bethink  yourself.  You  have 
suffered  a  temporary  collapse  o'  reason.  You  will 
hold  the  balance  truer  in  the  morning.  God  be 
with  you ! " 

And  Annie  could  not  go  away  without  returning 
the  blessing,  nor  yet  say  it,  and  keep  her  anger.  So 
they  parted  as  usual  with  a  smile  and  a  handgrip — 
and  love  has  always  invincible  hope. 

"  Father  is  a  bit  disappointed,"  Annie  said  to  her- 
self, "  but  he'll  get  over  it,  and  then  he'll  be  just. 
Yes,  he'll  be  just,  whatever  comes,  he'll  be  just.  That 
is  all  I  am  wanting,  for  when  he  knows  Roy  better, 
he  will  be  liking  him  better.  And  I'm  fairly  blessed 
with  my  lad!  Oh  what  a  wonderful  thing  is  love! 
I  can  pray  for  the  whole  world  to-night.  Love  works 
miracles.  It  has  given  a  new  meaning  to  my  life, 
and  oh,  Roy!  my  dear  one!  I  hope  that  you  are 
as  happy  this  night  as  I  am." 


CHAPTER  THREE 
MRS.  LOCHRIGG'S  OPINIONS 

HAPPY  as  Annie  had  declared  herself  to  be,  she  rose 
in  the  morning  with  a  certain  depression  and  anxiety. 
For  all  changes  to  the  thoughtful  heart  must  have  an 
air  of  melancholy;  what  we  have  to  leave  behind 
is  part  of  ourselves;  we  are,  in  a  measure,  dying  to 
the  life  we  are  quitting;  and  must  do  so,  before  we 
can  enter  fully  and  cheerfully  on  the  life  we  are  go- 
ing to.  And  although  she  did  not  tell  herself  these 
things,  she  felt  them.  Roy  had  talked  to  her  with 
passionate  and  loving  eloquence  of  their  own  home, 
and  her  heart  was  turning  to  it — so  much  so  that 
the  home  she  was  to  leave  had  already  lost  some- 
thing of  its  tender  charm.  For  as  she  went  about 
her  household  duties,  she  was  dreaming  of  the  pretty 
little  floor  Roy  was  to  prepare  for  her  in  the  great 
city  of  Glasgow;  and  of  the  life  of  perfect  bliss  they 
were  to  share  in  it;  consequently  her  present  life  was 
the  poorer  for  this  projection  of  her  best  self  con- 
tinually into  the  future. 

Still  affairs  went  on  in  the  Brodiclt  cottage  with 

34 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  35 

their  usual  peace  and  regularity,  and  the  Deacon  was 
not  at  once  sensitive  to  his  loss.  Indeed  he  was  far 
more  sensitive  to  the  annoyance  which  the  brag  and 
pride  of  his  future  son-in-law  caused  him;  for  Roy 
had  won  the  handsomest  and  richest  girl  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  he  was  not  able  to  bear  his  success 
modestly.  On  the  night  of  his  betrothal  he  went 
straight  from  Annie's  home  to  the  house  of  his  aunt, 
Mistress  Sarah  Lochrigg,  for  he  could  not  rest  until 
he  told  her  the  news. 

Now  Sarah  Lochrigg  was  in  her  way  as  pro- 
nounced a  character  as  Robert  Brodick,  and  possessed 
almost  as  much  influence  in  the  small  community. 
She  was  the  only  mother  her  nephews  knew,  and  her 
pride  in  both  boys  was  quite  maternal  in  character. 
Although  fifty  years  of  age  she  was  still  handsome  in 
a  large  way — with  fine  black  hair,  and  bright  black 
eyes,  a  vivid  color,  a  tall  erect  figure,  and  a  most 
authoritative  voice  and  manner.  For  she  had  sailed 
some  years  with  her  husband,  and  could  command 
his  ship  as  well  as  any  officer  in  it. 

But  when  her  sister  died,  leaving  two  infant  sons, 
she  gave  up  her  sea  life  and  devoted  herself  to  the 
children.  Before  they  were  half  grown  the  Captain 
retired,  built  the  roomy  house  overlooking  the  sea 
in  which  she  lived,  and  for  a  few  years  enjoyed  the 


36  The   Hands  of  Compulsion 

quiet  and  repose  he  had  well  earned.  Then  he  went 
solemnly  and  cheerfully  on  his  last  long  voyage,  and 
at  the  date  of  this  story  Sarah  Lochrigg  was  a  widow 
of  ample  means,  for  her  station,  and  continually  add- 
ing to  her  "  dry  siller "  the  profits  of  letting  her 
spare  rooms  in  the  summer  to  "  well-to-do  Glasgow 
bodies  "  seeking  health  and  rest  in  the  life-giving  at- 
mosphere of  beautiful  Arran. 

Her  nephew  Will  lived  with  her,  but  Roy,  being 
second  officer  on  The  Lady  Mary,  a  steamer  plying 
between  Glasgow  and  Lamlash,  lived  in  officers' 
quarters  on  the  boat;  or  else  in  some  room  in  the  city 
convenient  to  the  requirements  of  his  duty.  Now 
Roy  knew  his  aunt's  movements  almost  to  an  hour, 
for  they  were  arranged  and  set  beyond  ordinary  in- 
terference, and  therefore  he  was  certain  at  this  par- 
ticular date  she  was  in  the  height  and  fever  of  her 
Spring  cleaning.  He  knew  also,  that  to  Mistress 
Lochrigg  this  was  an  event  of  the  greatest  import- 
ance ;  and  it  was  his  usual  policy  to  be  busy  enough  on 
The  Lady  Mary  to  excuse  all  interference  in  his 
aunt's  affairs.  It  was  Will  who  at  this  time  gave 
her  such  help  as  she  would  permit  any  "  man-body  " 
to  render;  yet  she  generally  bemoaned  Will's  best 
efforts  as  "  miserable  make-shifts,  which  she  par- 
fectly  thought  scorn  of,"  and  which  could  only  be 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  37 

tolerated,  because  certain  work  was  "  over  weighty 
for  a  woman  on  the  wrong  side  of  fifty,  even  though 
she  was  a  very  Judith  in  fortitude." 

Yet,  knowing  all  the  circumstances  and  environ- 
ments of  Lochrigg  House  at  that  date,  Roy  went 
there,  and  that  with  a  sense  and  air  of  triumph  quite 
beyond  his  control.  There  was  a  light  in  the  kitchen, 
and  he  lifted  the  latch  and  went  in. 

"  Good-evening,  Aunt  1  "  he  said  cheerily. 

"  Good-night,  you  mean.  It  will  chap  eleven 
o'clock  before  long." 

"Is  it  that  late?" 

"  Lift  your  eyes,  you  can  see  for  yoursel'." 

"  I  see  that  you  are  very  busy." 

"  Busy !  I'm  worn  out,  and  done  for.  It  has  been 
just  a  weary  hurry-push  for  the  last  week.  Will  has 
done  his  best,  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  The  natural-born  incapacity  o'  men-folk.  They 
have  neither  sense  nor  mense  about  a  house.  They 
can  lift  a  heavy  bit  o'  furnishing,  but  they  haven't 
an  idea  about  the  cleaning  and  polishing  o*  it.  And 
as  for  setting  it  down  where  it  properly  belongs,  they 
would  be  as  likely  to  put  the  kitchen  things  in  the 
bedrooms,  and  the  bedrooms'  things  in  the  parlor, 
as  in  their  rightful,  ordained  places." 


38  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  I  wish  I  had  time  to  help  you,  Aunt." 

"  You  help  me  I  That  would  be  a  story.  You  can 
neither  help,  nor  hinder." 

"  I  am  glad  I  can't  hinder  you,  for  I  want  to  tell 
you  something  very  interesting.  Can  you  listen  to 
me?" 

"  Ay,  I  can — if  you  are  in  earnest.  I'm  not  car- 
ing for  *  maybe's '  to-night." 

"  It  is  a  crowned  truth.  I  came  here  purposeful 
to  tell  you  a  most  important,  and  happy  thing." 

"  Then  it  is  somewhat  about  yoursel'.  If  it  is  in 
the  '  importants '  it  is  concerning  Royden  Morrison. 
I  count  that  certain." 

"  I've  won  Annie  Brodick  for  my  wife.  What 
do  you  think  o'  that?  The  bonniest  lass  in  Arran! 
As  good  as  gold  I  With  land  and  siller  at  her  back ! 
And  for  all  a  very  lily  o'  the  Kirk,  and  as  religious 
as  if  she  was  born  and  bred  for  a  D.D.  I  know  I'm 
little  worthy  o'  her,  but  she'll  be  a  sort  o'  guardian 
angel  to  me." 

"  She'll  be  your  master.  She  is  one  o'  them  New- 
Women  kind,  I  hear  tell.  I  thought  she  was  to  marry 
the  Minister.  Goodness  knows  he's  daft  about  her. 
And  he  has  been  educating  her  in  all  sorts  o'  new- 
fangled ideas." 

"  She  has  thrown  over  the  Minister,  and  taken  my- 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  39 

self.  And  I'm  not  afraid  o'  the  New- Woman.  In 
fact,  I  rather  like  her." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  did.  Why  not?  She 
is  just  an  amusement — and  every  sensible  body  kens, 
there  is  usually  a  specimen  o'  the  Auld  Woman  un- 
der every  New- Woman.  It  only  takes  a  bairn — an 
hour-old  baby  will  do — to  give  the  auld  woman  a 
final  supremacy  o'er  the  new  one.  New  Women  in- 
deed! Such  unbelievable  nonsense!  We  are  not  re- 
quiring them.  What  we  are  needing — and  that  at 
extremities  for — is  New  Men.  The  men  o'  this  gen- 
eration are  poor,  feckless  creatures." 

"Are  you  not  pleased  with  my  choice,  Aunt?  I 
was  sure  you  would  be  delighted." 

"  Well,  Roy,  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind  yet 
about  Annie  Brodick.  She  is  a  woman  whose  con- 
versation is  of  the  *  yes '  and  *  no'  kind,  and  purely 
positive  in  all  things.  She'll  shape  your  life  for  you, 
and  your  work,  and  your  clothes,  and  your  words, 
yes,  the  thoughts  o'  .your  heart.  Clay  in  the  potter's 
hand  will  be  independent,  compared  with  yourself  in 
the  hands  o'  Annie  Brodick.  Did  you  speak  to  her 
father?" 

"  I  did." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Next  to  nothing.    He  is  a  jealous  body  about  his 


40  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

daughter,  and  he  is  worrying  Annie  to  marry  the 
Minister.  Annie  prefers  me,  and  we  are  going  to  be 
very  happy,  Aunt,  no  doubt  o'  that.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  If  your  ways  o'  sinning,  and  her  ways  o*  sinning 
are  the  same,  you  will  maybe  sort  together  well 
enough;  but  if  they  are  different,  she'll  soon  count 
you  a  fool— and  let  you  know  it.  Now  I  ask  you  to 
remember,  that  Annie  Brodick  is  a  thought  miserly 
about  money — and  you,  you  are  nothing  but  a  was- 
tra  and  a  spendthrift !  I  wish  the  Deacon  had  signi- 
fied his  intentions  about  Annie's  tocher.  What  will 
he  give  her?  What  did  he  say  on  that  subject?" 

"  I  did  not  name  the  subject.  He  had  been  at  a 
Kirk  session,  and  was  not  in  a  suitable  temper." 

"  You  ought  to  have  named  it.  And  what  for  was 
there  a  Kirk  meeting?  I  never  heard  tell  o'  the 
intent." 

"  YouVe  been  that  throng,  you  have  doubtless 
missed  the  notice.  The  Minister  wants  an  organ." 

"  Organ !  Then  they  would  require  to  take  away 
the  Precentor's  desk,  and  that  might  be  displeasing  to 
the  Almighty,  as  well  as  to  the  auld  folks.  Me,  and 
the  like  o'  me,  are  used  to  the  Precentor.  I  couldn't 
sing  my  psalms  without  him." 

"Annie  says,  the  organ  is  unnecessary;  the  choir 
is  very  good,  particularly  good." 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  41' 

"Sure!  Annie  leads  the  choir.  For  my  part,  I 
think  there  is  too  much  singing,  and  too  little  preach- 
ing. Mr.  Saunders  has  given  us  short  weights  in  doc- 
trine lately.  The  elders  are  all  noticing  that — and 
not  liking  it.  But  if  you  have  nothing  to  talk  about 
but  the  Kirk  and  Annie  Brodick,  I  am  beyond  carry- 
ing on  such  a  conversation.  I  am  a  weary  woman. 
I  would  not  wonder  if  I  am  a  sick  woman.  I  feel  like 
it." 

"  You  are  bone  tired,  Aunt.  That  is  all.  Let  me 
make  you  a  good,  hot  glass  of  whiskey,  and  go  to 
your  bed.  In  the  morning  you  will  be  fit  as  a  trivet 
for  any  work." 

"  How  daur  you  ?  " 

"  As  medicine,  Aunt.     I  was  not  meaning " 

"  How  daur  you  mention  the  sinful  stuff  to  me,  Roy 
Morrison  ?  " 

"  It  was  just  an  advice." 

"  That  will  cost  you  more  than  you  reckon  on. 
Me!  Sarah  Lochrigg,  a  member  o'  the  Women's 
Temperance  Union !  A  speaker  in  the  same !  to  take 
a  glass  o'  hot,  strong  whiskey,  because  I'm  a  bit 
weary.  It  is  most  impertinent  of  you,  Roy  Morri- 
son, to  propose  the  like  to  me.  If  you  had  any  glim- 
mering sense  o'  my  responsibility,  and  influence,  or 
I  may  say  o'  the  power  o'  my  eloquence,  you  would 
have  been  present  at  our  last  week's  meeting,  when 


142  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"I  was 'suffering  very  much,  father." 

"  But  you  might  have  called  up  the  lass  if  you 
were  not  able  to  put  things  as  they  ought  to  be." 

"  Father,  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  reach  my  room." 

"Can  I  get  you  anything?" 

"  I  have  all  I  want,  father.  I  know  well  what  to 
do  when  I  am  in  trouble  of  any  kind." 

"Weel,  if  you  get  no  better,  call  me,  and  I'll 
go  for  the  medical  man;  though  Doctor  McFarlane 
is  fearsome  angry  if  he  is  called  at  night — and 
charging  for  it,  too." 

"  I'm  not  requiring  McFarlane.  I'll  do  better 
wanting  him.  Just  leave  me  to  myself,  father.  I'll 
be  fit  enough  by  morning." 

"  God  help  and  bless  you,  Annie !  " 

He  went  away  with  the  blessing  on  his  lips,  and 
then  returned  to  the  house-place,  and  began  to  look 
around  for  his  usual  bread  and  cheese  and  glass  of 
milk.  Annie  had  forgotten  them.  "  It  is  easy  to 
say  who  has  been  here,"  he  muttered.  "  Only  Roy 
Morrison  could  make  her  forget  me,  and  it  is  most 
humiliating  to  be  put  o'  mind  for  the  like  o'  that 
ne'er-do-well.  And  if  I  am  any  judge  o'  women- 
folk, there  has  been  a  quarrel  between  him  and 
Annie — and  the  poor  lass  is  heart  and  soul  sick. 
That  is  the  way  o1  this  business.  I  am  seeing  it 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  143 

all  clearly,  ay,  and  feeling  it  likewise — a  month  or 
two  on  tlie  treadmill  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the 
lazy,  lying  scoundrel.  God  forgive  me!  I'm  mak- 
ing myself  jury  and  judge  baith.  Keep  your  castle, 
Robert  Brodick!  There's  an  enemy  at  your  gates.'* 

These  sentiments,  mingled  with  verses  of  warn- 
ing and  encouragement,  disciplined  the  angry  father 
until  he  fell  asleep  under  their  influence,  and  his 
soul  went  to  that  lowest  chamber  of  being  in  which 
there  is  always  a  romance  and  a  mystery — the  won- 
derful mystery  of  dreams — the  unfolding  and  the 
enlightenment  of  which  cannot  come  in  any  other 
way,  because  for  it,  words — however  wise — would 
be  impotent  things. 

So  the  man  slept,  while  his  nobler  part  was  in  the 
School  of  Dreams,  and  the  woman  sat  tearless  and 
dumb  with  hands  clasped  upon  her  knees.  There 
was  no  thought  of  sleep  in  Annie's  eyes,  they  were 
fixed  and  wide  open,  and  without  the  shadow  of 
tears.  She  was  not  a  girl  ready  to  weep.  She  hardly 
remembered  any  occasion  when  she  had  done  so. 
A  kind  of  Spartan  self-control  had  been  the  law  of 
her  childhood,  and  even  at  this  bitter  hour  she  sought 
not  the  relief  of  tears.  Neither  did  the  oppression 
on  her  heart  drive  her  into  restlessness  and  move- 
ment; she  could  not,  as  many  do,  walk  with  sorrow 


44  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

up  ?  I  am  thinking  too,  about  your  brother  Will.  He 
loves  the  girl,  that  you  have  taken  from  him." 

"Annie  would  never  have  looked  at  Will  for  a 
husband." 

"  I  would  not  say,  but  what  she  is  likely  to  do 


worse." 


"  If  you  are  going  to  begin  about  Will,  it  is  time 
I  went." 

"  I  was  hearing  this  afternoon  a  queer  story  about 
Will's  boat,  it  is  too  late  to  take  up  the  subject  now. 
Come  to-morrow  and  clear  yourself." 

"  I  will " — and  then  he  went  to  her  side,  and 
looked  down  into  her  eyes,  and  said  "  how  black  and 
bonnie  they  were,  and  how  full  of  love,"  and  she 
shook  her  head,  and  then  smilingly  declared — "  I 
have  not  another  minute  to  spare  for  such  a  fleeching, 
flattering  lad,"  and  Roy  kissed  her  and  asked,  "  Won't 
you  bid  me  good-night,  Aunt?"  and  she  answered 
with  a  grave  tenderness — "  God  be  with  you,  Roy, 
and  good-night,  my  dear  lad." 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  shut  behind  him,  she  rose 
and  locked  it,  and  lit  her  night  lamp.  Then  lifting 
the  black  tea  pot,  she  drank  a  cup  full  from  it,  wit;h 
an  air  at  once  defensive  and  determined. 

"  Thank  God  for  a  cup  of  good  tea  I "  she  said, 
and  then  as  she  undressed  herself,  she  audibly  re- 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's   Opinions  45 

fleeted — "  it  is  the  curse  of  women  that  when  they 
have  to  choose  between  two  ways,  or  two  things,  or 
two  persons,  they  are  sure  to  choose  the  one  worst 
for  them.  Poor  Will!  the  girl  must  be  a  born 
idiot — but  a  bad  husband,  of  some  kind  or  other,  is 
doubtless  the  discipline  best  for  most  women.  Them 
above  know — Poor  Will,  he  fairly  worships  her! — 
I  wonder  if  Roy  loves  the  lass — or  her  tocher — or  if 
he  is  simply  set  on  getting  ahead  of  his  brother?  " 

At  first  it  appeared  impossible  to  doubt  Roy's  love 
for  his  affianced  bride.  A  man  so  enamored,  so 
transported  with  love,  no  one  had  ever  seen  before; 
and  the  married  men  and  their  wives  shook  their 
heads  at  his  noisy  happiness,  and  predicted  that  such 
hot  love  would  soon  be  cold.  It  certainly  soon  be- 
came subject  to  moods,  which  troubled  Annie's  na- 
ture to  its  depths.  For  as  the  young  man  grew 
accustomed  to  his  good  fortune,  he  began  to  find 
flaws  in  it.  For  instance,  the  Deacon  was  a  standing 
grievance.  He  generally  felt  his  presence  to  be  a 
wrong  to  Annie  and  himself.  It  was  true,  that  the 
father  was  only  sitting  on  his  own  hearthstone,  but 
Roy  wished  him  far  away.  He  said  "  The  auld  man 
had  no  consideration  for  other  folk";  and  of  course, 
if  the  nights  were  chill  or  wet,  the  offense  was  aggra- 
vated.— "  There  is  no  pleasing  your  father,5'  he  said 


46  The    Hands  of   Compulsion 

to  Annie,  and  Annie — though  understanding  and 
excusing  her  father — was  anxious  and  unhappy  at 
the  want  of  harmony  between  him  and  her  lover. 

For  Roy  could  not  make  Brodick  laugh  at  his 
funny  stories,  or  take  the  slightest  interest  in  his 
mimicries,  or  comical  recitations;  and  he  wondered 
at  his  daughter's  toleration  of  this  side  of  her  lover's 
character.  In  the  first  place,  laughter  was  not  natural 
to  Brodick,  he  took  life  too  seriously  to  make  sport 
out  of  it.  In  the  second  place,  he  had  that  contempt 
for  mimicry  and  punning,  which  all  but  the  most 
elemental  people  feel;  and  he  was  sure  Annie's  fine 
nature  and  intellect  was  subjected  to  deterioration  in 
such  companionship.  There  was  no  obvious  quarrel, 
but  no  disagreement  is  so  intolerable  as  that  divided 
from  union  by  only  a  semi-tone.  It  is  a  far  deeper 
and  more  intense  dislike,  than  one  which  explains 
itself  in  a  vigorous  dispute,  or  contradiction. 

To  be  constantly  between  these  two  opposite  na- 
tures, and  made  to  feel  the  fret  of  both,  was  not  a 
good  discipline  in  any  form  for  Annie.  She  was 
nervous  and  fearful  when  her  father  and  lover  were 
together.  Her  father's  house  had  lost  all  its  old 
placid,  cheerful  charm;  and  she  longed  for  her  own 
home.  Brodick  divined  this  feeling,  and  it  hurt  him 
like  a  festering  wound.  But  Roy,  cosy  and  cocky  in 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  47 

his  own  good  opinion,  failed  entirely  to  see  that  his 
cracks  and  quips,  and  riddles  and  poetical  recitations, 
made  the  Deacon  uncomfortable,  not  to  say  resentful. 
Even  Annie's  cool  sympathy,  and  dubious  remarks 
were  ineffectual,  to  curb  the  young  man's  exhibitions 
of  supposed  cleverness. 

"  Father  is  not  liking  your  stories  and  songs,  Roy," 
said  Annie  to  her  lover,  one  night,  when  his  efforts 
to  impress  or  amuse  the  Deacon  had  been  a  signal 
failure. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  what  would  please  him, 
Annie,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  am  sure,  the  best  o' 
good  company  are  always  delighted  with  my  stories, 
and  the  like.  Captain  Laird  himself  was  saying 
often,  that  I  was  the  life  o'  the  boat,  and  I  can  tell 
you,  there's  few  men  as  welcome  in  a  smoking  room 
as  Roy  Morrison." 

"  My  father  is  a  kirk  man,  not  a  smoking-room 
man.  There  is  a  difference,  Roy.  But  if  you  really 
want  to  please  him,  you  will  bring  forward,  plain 
and  honest,  the  story  of  the  painting  out  o'  our  name 
on  your  brother's  boat.  You  have  never  once  given 
him  the  denial  he  is  expecting — and  has  a  right  to." 

"  He  has  no  more  right  to  ask  a  denial  from  me, 
than  from  any  other  man  in  the  village." 

11  He  has.    I'm  telling  you,  father  is  rightly  look- 


48  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

ing  for  your  discussion  and  denial  of  that  black 
business.  He  thinks  your  daffing  and  laughing  and 
joking  is  just  a  put-by  of  what  you  ought  to  be 
telling  him." 

"  Dod!  The  man  has  taken  a  scunner  at  me.  He 
walks  by  me  as  if  I  was  dirt  under  his  feet.  Thank 
goodness!  we  will  be  having  our  own  home  soon. 
Why  isn't  he  speaking  to  me  about  it?  That  is 
what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Because  it  is  your  place  to  speak  to  him,  and  I 
say  plainly,  Roy,  I  have  long  been  expecting  you 
would  do  so." 

Whether  it  was  Roy's  place  or  not,  the  Deacon 
would  have  spoken,  if  he  had  felt  any  surety  that  a 
home  for  his  daughter  and  Roy  Morrison  would  ever 
be  required.  The  subject  was  frequently  in  his  mind, 
but  all  his  thoughts  and  plans  in  that  direction  were 
brought  to  a  standstill  by  an  inner  dissent  not  to  be 
gainsaid.  "  Not  yet;  not  yet!  "  said  his  soul  within 
him,  and  he  could  not  disobey  the  admonition  of  a 
Power,  that  had  never  deceived  or  betrayed  him. 
He  was  to  wait,  and  he  was  willing  to  wait,  for  sooner 
or  later,  he  was  sure  Annie's  clear,  truthful  nature 
would  detect  the  falseness  of  the  man  she  had  chosen 
— and  then  Robert  Brodick  knew  well,  it  would  be 
simply  impossible  for  her  to  marry  him. 


Mrs.    Lochrigg's    Opinions  49 

But  for  three  months  Roy  kept  his  power  and  po- 
sition intact.  Annie  believed  in  him  with  all  her  soul, 
and  loved  him  with  the  intense  affection  of  a  self- 
restrained  truthful  woman.  No  one  could  doubt  her 
affection,  it  had  the  charm  of  absolute  sincerity  and 
of  truthfulness  without  a  flaw.  But  such  an  atmos- 
phere was  naturally  too  tiresome  an  endeavor  for  a 
man  mingled  of  exactly  diverse  elements,  and  grad- 
ually Annie  was  aware  of  some  change  too  slight 
for  analysis,  too  elusive  to  complain  of,  but 

"  Ah !  the  little  more,  and  how  much  of  it  is ; 
And  the  little  less,  and  what  worlds  away !  " 

The  change  was  the  little  less,  and  it  made  Annie's 
heart  quake  as  she  looked  into  the  future;  for  if  a 
man  is  not  noble  and  unselfish  when  he  is  in  love, 
he  never  will  be  so,  either  in  this  life  or  the  next; 
and  Annie  could  neither  disguise,  nor  complain  away, 
many  a  small  occurrence  which  no  noble  or  unselfish 
man  would  have  been  guilty  of.  Every  incident  of 
this  kind  made  a  distinct  impression  on  her,  but  she 
told  herself  that  no  one  was  perfect,  and  that  when 
she  was  his  wife,  and  had  him  always  in  her  care, 
he  would  come  to  see  things  in  the  light  of  her  eyes, 
and  the  wisdom  of  her  judgment.  Alas!  Alas!  a 
woman  in  love  tells  many  a  lie  to  herself,  and  that 


£O  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

old,  old  heartache  of  the  world  showed  Annie  no 
favor — he  had  already  begun  to  give  her  misgivings 
hard  to  control,  that  mixed  themselves  with  her  day's 
duties,  and  crossed  the  hours  of  her  sleep  and 
dreams — 

"  For  Oh,  how  easily  things  go  wrong, 
A  sigh,  a  kiss,  or  a  frown  too  long, 
And  there  follows  a  mist  and   a  weeping  rain, 
And  life  is  never  the  same  again  I " 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

THE  DEACON  IS  REPROVED 

As  time  went  on  the  incident  of  the  painted-out 
name  on  Will  Morrison's  boat  appeared  to  be  for- 
gotten. Many  reasons  put  it  out  of  general  discus- 
sion— the  Summer  season  opened  in  less  than  a  month 
after  the  event,  and  every  one  was  fully  occupied 
with  duties  pertaining  to  the  arrival  of  a  large  num- 
ber of  strangers,  who  had  to  be  accommodated,  for 
the  most  part,  in  the  homes  of  the  resident  popu- 
lation. Any  woman  walking  through  the  little  town 
would  have  known  that  such  an  universal  display  of 
shining  windows,  and  snowy  lace  curtains,  and  pipe- 
clayed doorsteps,  and  trim  lawns  and  flower  gardens 
presupposed  a  month's  steady  scrubbing  and  polish- 
ing. And  when  men  have  the  discomfort  of  tossed-up 
homes,  and  uncertain  meals,  and  women  live  with 
bare  arms,  and  kilted  petticoats,  neither  of  them  are 
much  inclined  to  discuss  their  neighbors,  or  any  event 
concerning  them,  unless  it  also  concerned  the  great 
event  of  the  year,  the  number  and  quality  of  boarders 
at  every  house. 

But  from  the  first,   two  of  the  most  important 

51 


52  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

people  in  the  town  had  set  their  faces  against  any 
conversation  about  the  Morrison  affair,  and  to  carry 
it  on  in  opposition  to  their  wishes,  contained  possi- 
bilities few  cared  to  meet.  The  Minister  pointedly 
ignored  the  subject.  He  had  no  opinion  to  give  the 
public,  in  fact,  the  stricter  sort  thought  his  indiffer- 
ence almost  sinful.  For  when  pinned  down  by  the 
senior  Elder  with  a  direct  question,  he  smiled  rather 
scornfully  and  "  thought  it  likely  the  whole  matter 
was  just  a  foolish  prank  of  mischievous  boys,  out 
for  what  they  considered  fun." 

No  one,  however,  gave  him  credit  for  this  peace- 
making suggestion.  All  were  sure  he  hated  the 
subject,  because  he  hated  to  hear  Annie  Brodick's 
name  in  open,  and  not  very  creditable,  conversation. 

"  He  is  far  gone  in  love  with  the  lass,"  said  Elder 
Ruthven,  "  and  the  Lord  knows  we  have  all  been  in 
that  state  oursel's  at  some  time  or  other — and  I  am 
not  wondering  at  him  trying  to  keep  Annie  Brodick's 
name  out  o'  every  dirty  mouth." 

"  Ay,  but  the  sin,  the  sin,  Elder!  I  am  thinking 
the  Minister  ought  to  have  brought  forward  the 
sinfulness  o'  the  deed — even  in  the  pulpit.  Yes,  yes, 
even  in  the  pulpit." 

"  Maybe  it  was  more  mischief  than  sin,  MacFar- 
lane." 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  53 

"It  wasn't  a  right  thing  to  do,  Ruthven;  and 
what  is  not  right,  is  simply  wrong.  There  are  no 
half-sins,  to  my  thinking." 

"  You  are  extraordinar  strict  in  your  principles, 
MacFarlane.  I  am  not  denying  that  you  are  right. 
Weel,  weel,  the  truth  is  sure  to  tell  itself  some  day, 
some  way,  and  it  is  good  sense  to  wait  for  it.  I'll 
be  going,  friends.  Od!  it  is  wonderful,  the  way  time 
flies  in  good  company." 

But  even  more  effectual  than  the  Minister's  disap- 
proval, was  the  more  outspoken  anger  of  Mistress 
Lochrigg — at  least  in  the  social  view  of  the  case. 
It  was  Mistress  Lochrigg  who  had  supplied  the 
Minister  with  that  pawky  plan  of  shifting  the  blame 
from  some  ill-willed  person  to  the  more  difficult 
culprit,  a  lot  of  mischievous  boys  out  for  what  they 
considered  fun.  She  knew  that  this  shifting  of  re- 
sponsibility from  one  to  many,  took  away  from  the 
offense  all  the  piquant  flavor  of  personality.  Blame 
divided  is  not  interesting;  even  a  cat  would  prefer 
the  worrying  of  one  mouse  to  the  distracting  chase 
of  half-a-dozen. 

This  diversion,  and  dissipation  of  interest,  was  a 
clever  move,  and  it  was  supplemented  by  words — 
which,  coming  from  Sarah  Lochrigg,  were  not  to  be 
misunderstood.  For  the  day  after  the  outrage  had 


54  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

been  discovered,  she  came  across  a  group  of  women  in 
the  grocery  store  discussing  it.  Their  eager  voices, 
interruptions,  and  explanations,  and  the  sudden  con- 
scious silence  which  followed  her  entrance,  made  her 
sure  of  it. 

"  You  may  weel  shut  your  mouths,  the  whole  lot  o' 
you,"  she  said.  Her  face  was  white,  her  voice  low 
and  -even,  but  its  tones  were  as  if  she  had  dipped 
every  word  in  aqua  f ortis.  And  her  eyes !  Nothing 
but  absolute  righteousness  could  have  borne  them  un- 
flinchingly. She  was  the  incarnation  of  calm,  con- 
temptuous anger.  "  If  one  of  you,"  she  continued, 
"  but  wag  your  tongue  against  me,  or  mine,  I'll  have 
a  price  set  on  every  ill  word,  and  I'll  make  you  pay 
it,  in  siller  or  prison  labor,  every  bawbee  of  it." 

"The  Ladies,  Mrs.  Lochrigg — "  interrupted  the 
grocer. 

"  The  Ladies,  Mr.  Hall,  may  talk  about  their 
ladyships;  they  are  free  o'  themselves — but  'they 
must  leave  my  lads  alone;  and  they  might  do  the 
will  o'  God,  and  look  a  little  better  after  their  own." 
Then  facing  "  the  Ladies  " — "  Mattie  Caird,  your 
Tommy  was  drunk  last  Sabbath,  and  made  a  disgrace 
of  himself  in  the  very  boundaries  o'  the  kirk.  Jenny 
Black,  your  Ringan  was  turned  awa'  from  the  Castle 
last  Monday  morn — you  ken  what  for." 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  55 

"What  for?  What  for,  Mistress  Lochrigg?  I 
daur  you  to  say  what  for." 

"  Do  you  think  I'll  say  the  word,  you  huzzy  ?  You 
ken  fine  what  for.  Go  home  and  look  after  your 
house — and  I  would  wash  the  floor  o'  it,  now  and 
again,  if  I  was  you." 

"  I'll  just  tell  you,  Mistress  Lochrigg " 

"  You  will  tell  me  nothing — nothing  at  all.  If  I 
get  one  word  from  you,  I  will  turn  you  out  o'  your 
dirty  house,  and  roup  the  things  in  it,  for  the  sum 
o'  rent  you  are  owing  me."  Then  facing  the  whole 
company  she  said,  with  a  quietness  almost  fright- 
some — "  If  I  hear  tell  of  any  one  o'  you,  or  of  any 
other  man  or  woman,  speaking  of  my  lads,  or  their 
boats,  or  of  aught  they  say,  or  do,  I  will  make  strict 
inquiry  about  the  same.  You  ken  what  Sarah  Loch- 
rigg means  by  thae  few  words — Sandy  Brock,  you 
will  send  to  my  house  before  the  clock  chaps  eleven 
three  pounds  o'  powdered  butter,  and  a  Yorkshire 
ham  weighing  sixteen  pounds,  or  thereabouts,  and  a 
kippered  salmon,  and  three  bunches  o'  asparagus,  and 
a  peck  o'  peas — fresh  gathered,  see  to  that — and 
four  boxes  o'  strawberries " 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mistress  Lochrigg,  but  the  berries 
I  cannot " 

"  You  can,  and  you  will  send  them,  Sandy.    They 


56  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

are  important,  and  I  am  knowing  you  got  twelve 
baskets  from  the  Castle  not  two  hours  ago.  So 
you'll  send  the  full  order,  Sir;  and  I  will  be  much 
obliged.  .  .  .  Good-morning,  Ladies  1 "  and 
with  a  haughty  indifference,  to  which  her  large 
beauty  gave  dignity  and  meaning,  she  left  the  Ladies 
to  continue  their  conversation,  if  they  wished  to. 

But  the  grocer  was  by  this  time  out  of  the  mood 
for  gossip.  He  gave  each  what  they  wanted  without 
an  unnecessary  word,  and  when  the  last  customer 
had  disappeared,  he  went  to  his  wife,  and  after  de- 
scribing Mistress  Lochrigg's  temper  as  "  enough  to 
fright  the  deil  "  he  bade  her  "  know  nothing,  and  say 
nothing,  and  look  nothing  anent  thae  weary  Morrison 
lads.  If  you  do,"  he  added,  "  my  lady  will  send  us 
to  the  right  about,  and  her  yearly  bill  is  of  some 
consequence.  Dod!  but  she's  the  domineering 


woman  1  " 


"  Ay,  Sandy,"  answered  Mrs.  Brock,  "  you  canna 
thwart  her  in  any  particular.  You  be  to  let  her  set 
up  the  golden  image  o'  her  special  orders.  The 
woman  would  fly  in  the  very  face  o'  Providence,  if 
Providence  stood  in  her  way.  She  would  that!  " 

It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  under  such  repressive 
circumstances  Brodick  was  likely  to  find  the  "  sifting 
of  the  facts "  which  he  had  promised  Annie  and 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  57 

himself,  a  rather  difficult  undertaking.  But  he  was 
not  a  man  to  be  daunted  by  difficulties  of  any  kind, 
and  he  also  possessed  that  invincible  patience  which 
is  in  itself  a  surety  of  success. 

"  Sooner  or  later,"  he  constantly  reminded  him- 
self, "  sooner  or  later,  the  right  bowl  comes  to  the 
hand  open  and  ready  for  it." 

So  he  went  his  usual  silent,  kindly  way,  and  no  one 
suspected  that  his  eyes  and  ears  were  both  attent 
for  any  thread  which  would  unravel  the  mystery. 
Nor  was  he  actuated  by  his  personal  dislike  of  Roy, 
a  personal  dislike  would  not  have  moved  him.  It 
would  have  been  regarded  as  a  temptation,  and  in 
its  finality  been  put  irrevocably  behind  him.  He 
knew  this,  because  now  that  anger  was  past  and  rea- 
son in  control,  he  shrank  from  injuring  Roy  publicly. 
He  wanted  only  Roy's  confession  to  Annie.  For  in 
his  soul  he  believed  the  young  man  guilty,  and  how 
could  he  trust  his  daughter  with  a  husband  capable 
of  such  a  contemptible  act,  and  of  the  uncountable 
lies  with  which  he  had  tried  to  conceal  it. 

But  of  this  intended  Nemesis  there  was  no  evi- 
dence. Even  Annie  thought  her  father  had  forgotten 
the  insult,  and  with  a  woman's  unreason  she  often 
said  some  scornful  words  to  her  own  heart  about 
his  indifference  to  the  honor  of  the  name  of  Brodick, 


58  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

and  then  again,  she  resented  angrily  any  mention  of 
the  circumstance,  or  any  proposed  investigation  of  it. 
For  deep  down  in  her  inmost  nature — deeper  than 
she  dared  to  look — there  was  a  darkness,  and  in  the 
darkness  a  doubt,  and  the  doubt  fluttered  eagerly  to 
name  itself.  She  felt  the  trembling  in  her  breast, 
made  by  the  invisible  suspicion,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined neither  to  face,  nor  to  interrogate  it.  For  at 
this  time,  she  was  constantly  telling  herself,  how 
much  nobler,  both  in  words  and  deeds,  Roy  had  lately 
been.  Thus  she  was  nursing  a  plea  for  Roy,  and 
justifying  her  own  attitude.  However,  Annie  had 
much  of  her  father's  temperament,  she  could  keep 
silence,  and  she  could  keep  her  own  secrets,  a  won- 
derful thing  for  a  woman  to  do. 

Thus,  this  little  troubling  under-current  was  not 
permitted  to  disturb  the  placid  stream  of  Summer 
life  in  the  lovely  town.  The  days  went  by  in  a  Mid- 
summer Dream  of  love  and  content.  The  grey  old 
house  with  its  far-back  look  and  antique  homeliness 
was  brightened  by  a  sunshine  that  went  to  hearts  of 
men,  and  the  root  of  every  tree  and  flower,  and  green 
thing.  There  were  boxes  of  mignonette  in  every 
window,  and  a  lavender  bed  along  the  southern 
border  of  the  garden.  Roses  sweetened  June,  and 
the  virgin  lilies — clad  in  the  lawn  of  naked  light — 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  59 

filled  the  silent  spaces  of  the  Summer  nights  with 
radiance  and  perfume.  The  ancient  wall  was  covered 
with  vines,  and  the  old,  old  well — from  which  men 
had  drunk  for  five  hundred  years — was  green  with 
moss,  and  shaded  by  nodding  ferns,  and  sweet  with 
gadding  violets. 

The  sound  of  running  water  was  -everywhere.  The 
bees  murmured  among  the  flowers,  or  drowsed  on 
the  slopes;  the  nightingales  and  throstles  sang  in  the 
thick  woods,  and  the  doves  ricketty-cooed  on  the 
barn  roofs.  And  if  you  went  up  the  hills,  there  were 
the  solemn  shades  of  the  pine  woods,  and  the  golden 
blaze  of  the  broom,  and  wonderful  little  dells,  so 
green  and  cool,  you  could  not  wonder  if  told  they 
were  resting  places  for  angels.  And  the  great  sea 
circled  the  land,  and  hills  rose  beyond  hills  from  blue 
to  grey,  till  they  were  faint  and  lost  in  the  misty 
Highland  sky. 

In  such  a  Summer  land  it  was  easy  to  believe  all 
Love's  sweetest  tales,  and  Annie  took  whatever  Roy 
said  into  her  heart,  and  nursed  his  words  there  to 
songs  and  dreams  of  future  happiness.  And  in  this 
life  of  pleasant  illusions  she  grew  so  lovely,  that  her 
father  wondered  at  the  change,  and  felt  every  day 
more  bitterly  the  apparent  wastrie  of  her  womanly 
gifts  and  charms. 


60  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  But  it  isn't  the  hour  to  speak  yet,"  he  mused, 
"  though  God  knows,  it  is  hard  for  me  to  thole  Roy 
Morrison's  ways.  If  he  was  Lord  John.o'  the  High- 
lands, he  couldn't  put  on  more  airs.  A  stranger 
would  be  sure  that  he  owned  not  only  my  Annie,  but 
my  house  and  land,  and  all  he  could  cast  his  glower- 
ing black  eyes  over.  As  for  mysel',  I  am  out  of  all 
consideration,  ay,  am  I ! — wi'  both  o'  them.  God 
help  me  to  keep  a  still  mouth,  and  my  hands  down 
at  my  side.  There's  none  else  able  for  the  job." 

Perhaps  the  old  should  remember  that  they  too 
have  been  in  Arcadia,  and  should  greet  the  young 
as  they  pass  into  the  Enchanted  Land  with  a  smile 
of  sympathy,  make  excuses  for  unwonted  selfishness, 
and  pardon  humiliating  neglect.  Many  do  so.  Many 
more  have  never  seen  Arcadia,  even  from  the  De- 
lectable Mountains.  Others  have  tarried  there  so 
short  a  time,  that  its  memory  comes  back  to  them 
as  "  only  a  dream."  Perhaps  Robert  Brodick  was 
among  the  latter  class,  for  if  he  had  ever  been  in 
Arcadia,  he  had  forgotten.  His  love  for  his  wife 
had  been  of  the  quality  of  his  nature,  strong  and 
sincere.  He  had  said  to  her,  "  Grace  Scott,  I  love 
you,  and  I  would  like  with  all  my  heart  to  make  you 
my  wife."  And  Grace  had  answered,  "  Weel,  Robert, 
I  might  do  worse  than  yourseF.  I'm  willing  enough 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  61 

to  marry  you."  Then  the  date  had  been  set,  and  the 
wedding  ring  fit,  and  they  had  stood  up  before  the 
Minister.  That  was  all.  So  to  Brodick's  apprehen- 
sion, the  enthusiasms  of  Roy,  and  the  dreamy  wistful- 
ness  of  his  hitherto  all-there  daughter,  were  symptoms 
of  a  foolish  love  sickness  sensible  people  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  acknowledge. 

One  fine  morning  in  June,  Brodick  resolved  to  go 
to  a  little  tarn  he  knew,  and  get  a  few  trout.  He 
really  longed  for  the  peace  of  the  lonely  places,  and 
the  fellowship  of  the  hills ;  for  it  is  in  the  widerness — 
and  not  in  contact  with  men — that  the  soul  recalls 
all  its  straying  energies,  and  renews  its  strength.  So 
he  said  to  Annie,  "  I'll  away  to  the  Tarrant  Tarn, 
and  spend  a  few  hours  wi'  the  trout  to-day,  Annie. 
Maybe  I'll  bring  you  a  few  pounders  home  wi'  me, 

" '  For  where  the  pools  are  bright  and  deep, 
There  the  grey  trout  lies  asleep.' " 

He  quoted  the  lines  quite  naturally,  they  were  part 
of  his  usual  preparation  for  a  day's  fishing.  And  it 
was  quite  in  course  that  Annie  should  reply, 

" '  But  when  the  wind  is  from  the  north, 
The  wily  fisher  goes  not  forth.' 

So  you  had  best  question  the  wind,  father." 
Then  Brodick  went  to  the  open  door  and  looked 


62  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

cast  and  west  and  north  and  south  for  a  sign  of  the 
wind's  mood.  "  I'll  trust  the  wind  to-day,"  he  said. 
"  There  may  be  a  plump  of  rain  in  the  afternoon, 
but  it  will  get  o'er  by  in  half-an-hour."  He  ate  his 
breakfast  in  a  kind  of  happy  hurry,  and  then  trudged 
off  to  the  mountains  with  his  rod,  a  good  supply  of 
flies,  red  spinners,  zulus,  etc.,  and  a  can  of  cold  tea, 
and  some  buttered  scones  for  his  lunch.  He  was 
really  going  for  solitude,  not  for  trout,  so  we  will 
not  intrude  upon  a  day  which  he  found  to  be  full  of 
the  presence  of  God.  A  few  fish,  however,  rewarded 
his  half-hearted  efforts,  for  when  he  reached  the  tarn 
there  was  a  good  ripple  on  the  water,  and  the  day 
was  cloudy,  but  the  wind  quickly  veered  to  the  north, 
and  he  smiled  at  his  memory  of  the  old  saying,  and 
allowed  "  it  was  true  enough  to  guide  those  who 
wanted  the  truth." 

As  soon  as  the  sun  was  visibly  westering  he  turned 
home,  full  of  the  spirit  of  the  hills,  and  lonely,  un- 
planted  places.  His  broad  calm  face  was  shining 
with  inward  peace,  his  strong,  almost  joyful  steps 
indicated  a  soul  at  one  with  some  Presence  diviner 
than  himself;  but  he  soon  descended  to  that  level 
whereon  humanity  dwells,  and  became  aware  of  the 
feverish  contact  of  mortal  beings.  For  passing  a 
small  cottage  on  his  way  home,  he  saw  Mistress 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  63 

Lochrigg  coming  out  of  it.  Curiosity  was  at  once 
to  the  fore;  he  began  to  speculate  as  to  her  purpose 
in  being  there,  and  was  not  sorry  when  she  waited 
for  his  approach  and  said, 

"  Good-evening,  Deacon  Brodick.  I  am  going 
your  'way,  if  you  will  convoy  me  hame.  I  can  see 
the  speculation  in  your  face;  why  don't  you  speir 
what  for  I  was  at  Timothy  Buchan's?  " 

"  Well  then,  I  am  speiring  now.  What's  wrong 
with  Tim  Buchan?" 

u  Most  everything.  He  has  a  fever — typhoid — or 
I  am  much  mistaken,  and  his  wife  has  a  bairn  not 
two  weeks  old,  and  the  eldest  girl  is  but  eight  years 
old,  and  there  are  two  or  three  sickly  weans  between 
her  and  the  new  born.  And  the  whole  lot  o'  them 
are  worn  to  skin  and  bone  wi'  hunger,  and  care,  or 
pure  pain  itsel'.  I  heard  tell  o'  their  miserable  con- 
dition an  hour  ago,  and  I  made  haste  to  see  what  I 
could  do  to  help  them." 

*  You  are  a  good  woman,  Sarah.  Wait  for  me  a 
wee.  I'll  do  my  share  now,  and  it  will  be  the  wel- 
com-er."  Then  back  he  went  to  the  cottage  and 
entered  it.  A  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms  was 
sitting  beside  an  apparently  dying  man.  "  Jean 
Buchan,"  he  said,  "  put  care  outside  your  door. 
Trust  to  God,  and  Robert  Brodick.  Make  your 


64  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

Timothy  understand,  if  so  be  you  can,  that  Robert 
Brodick  will  stand  for  him  and  his  family,  until  he 
can  do  his  day's  work  again." 

He  hardly  heard  the  poor  woman's  cry  of  grati- 
tude, he  went  so  quickly  from  the  cottage,  but  Sarah 
was  out  of  sight.  "The  silly,  proud  hizzy!  she  has 
taken  offense  at  my  leaving  her.  Women  are  won- 
derful queer  creatures.  She  wanted  me  to  help  Tim 
Buchan  and  yet — "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  to 
express  something  so  complex,  he  felt  it  impossible 
of  explanation  by  any  formula  of  words.  But  his 
long,  firm  strides  soon  brought  him  to  the  side  of  the 
huffy  woman. 

"  I  did  what  I  know  you  wanted  me  to  do,  Sarah," 
he  said,  "  and  I  am  thankful  to  you  for  putting  me 
in  the  way  of  such  a  good  deed.  Od,  woman!  I 
wonder  however  you  find  the  time  to  do  all  you  do — 
baith  inside  and  outside  your  ain  house.  It's  simply 
wonderful." 

"  I  can  find  time,  however  throng  I  am,  for  a  work 
o'  mercy;  that  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  serving 
God  before  man." 

"  I  know,  Sarah,  but  you " 

"  I  ken  your  fleeching  way,  Deacon,  but  it  isn't  of 
mysel'  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you.  It  is  about  those  dear 
to  both  o'  us.  My  house  is  now  near  by;  will  you 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  65 

come  in  and  have  a  cup  o'  tea  with  me,  and  we  can 
talk  as  we  drink?  I  haviC  some  plain  words  for  you, 
and  doubtless  you  will  be  ready  and  willing  to  give 
me  back  what  I  send — but  over  a  cup  o'  tea,  we  are 
not  likely  to  say  anything  beyond  good-will,  or  at 
least,  ordinar  civility." 

"  There  is  nothing  on  earth  could  make  me  quarrel 
with  you,  Sarah.  It  would  be  like  quarrelling  with 
the  dead.  You  and  my  wife  were  closer  and  dearer 
than  sisters.  You  made  her  dying  bed  easier  for 
more  than  a  year,  and  when  she  flitted  away,  it  was 
out  o'  your  arms  she  went.  Do  you  think  anything 
you  could  say  would  make  me  forget  what  you  did? 
No,  no,  Sarah." 

"  Well,  then,  Robert,  come  your  ways  in,  and  we'll 
have  a  reasonable  talk  o'er  a  cup  o'  Young  Hyson — 
and  you  may  give  me  half-a-dozen  o'  them  wee 
grey  trout,  and  I'll  make  them  a  bonnie  brown 
in  the  frying  pan.  I  am  gey  fond  o'  mountain 
fish." 

So  the  Deacon  went  in  with  his  old  friend,  and 
while  she  set  the  table,  and  buttered  the  hot  scones, 
and  turned  the  grey  fish  to  a  golden  brown,  Robert 
washed  his  hands  and  face,  and  taking  a  little  comb 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  combed  out  his  thick 
brown  hair,  carefully  parting  it  on  the  right  side,  as 


66  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

his  mother  had  taught  him,  because  the  right  side  o' 
anything,  was  the  lucky  side. 

"  My  goodness,  Sarah!  "  he  ejaculated,  as  he  drew 
in  his  chair  to  the  table — "  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  go  up 
to  the  mountains,  and  come  down  with  a  domineering 
hunger,  and  get  a  ravishing  meal  set  for  you  by  the 
woman  you're  respecting  above  all  others." 

"  Now,  Robert,  I'm  not  saying  but  what  your  com- 
pliments are  pleasant  enough,  but  at  the  present 
hour,  I  want  you  to  talk  business;  so  we'll  let  the 
compliments  go  by,  till  they  have  their  own  hour.  It 
is  my  question  first,  and  I  am  asking  you  plainly,  why 
you  did  not  come  and  tell  me  about  your  Annie  en- 
gaging hersel'  to  my  nephew  Roy?" 

"  Sarah,  why  did  you  not  come  and  tell  me  about 
your  nephew  engaging  himsel'  to  my  Annie?  " 

"  It  was  your  place,  Robert,  to  speak  first." 

"Nay,  it  was  yours." 

"  Well,  we  won't  argue  that  point.  Are  you 
pleased  with  the  contracting?" 

••  No." 

"Why?" 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  make  myself  believe 
in  it.  That  is  the  'why*  of  my  silence." 

"  You  are  not  wanting  to  believe  in  it." 

"  Perhaps— if  it  had  been  Will " 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  67 

44  Will  1  Will!  Of  course  Will!  Will  is  safe 
and  sure,  and  his  wife  may  put  by  care  like  an  old 
dress  she'll  never  need  to  wear  again.  There  would 
be  little  need  of  the  4  for  better  or  worse '  promise, 
if  it  was  Will;  but  no  doubt  you  are  thinking  a  wife 
might  have  her  share  o'  heartaches  wi'  Roy  Morri- 
son." 

"  Exactly — just  so.  Not  only  4  might,'  she  could 
count  on  them  without  a  doubt." 

44  Annie  can  make  a  man  o'  Roy.  He  has  some 
shortcomings  now,  I'm  not  denying  the  same,  but 
Annie  could  laugh  away  his  bit  follies,  and  strengthen 
his  heart." 

44  Exactly,  and  break  her  ain  heart,  and  weep  her 
life  away  in  the  doing  o'  it,  Sarah.  I  am  loving  my 
daughter  Annie." 

44  Weel,  Robert,  I  must  say  you  don't  act  like  it. 
You  are  a  parfect  penure,  a  very  Nabal  o'  a  father." 

44  Sarah  Lochrigg,  what  are  you  saying?  Do  you 
remember  who  you  are  talking  to?" 

"  I  know  well  who  I  am  talking  to,  and  though 
you  be  a  Deacon  in  the  Kirk,  I  will  say  it  again." 

44  You  are  not  requiring  to  do  anything  o'  the  kind. 
I'll  not  be  likely  to  forget  your  words.  But  I  wish 
you  would  give  me  some  proof  of  their  truthful- 


ness." 


68  THe  Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  I'll  do  it.  I  want  to  do  it.  That  is  the  why  and 
the  wherefore  of  my  asking  you  into  my  house — pass 
your  cup,  Deacon — I  see  it  is  empty." 

"  It  is  the  best  tea  I  have  had  for  a  long  while.  I 
wish  I  could  have  a  few  better  words  with  it." 

"  You'll  get  the  better  ones  after  the  ill  ones. 
The  latter  have  to  come  first." 

"Then  give  me  them  instanter.  What  miserly 
things  have  I  been  doing  to  Annie?  " 

"  Man  Robert  1  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  a 
father — that  had  plenty  o'  lying  siller,  ye  ken — 
letting  his  daughter  make  her  wedding  clothes  out  o1 
the  garments  left  her  by  her  dead  mother?  It  is  a 
shame,  Robert,  a  black  shame." 

"My  God!  I  don't  believe  it.  You  are  just 
hurting  me.  I'm  not  understanding,  Sarah." 

"  I  know  I  I  want  to  make  you  understand !  Roy 
told  me  distinctly  that  you  had  never  given  Annie 
one  bawbee  for  her  wedding  clothes,  and  that  she 
was  making  her  kirking  dress  out  o'  one  of  her 
mother's  old  dresses,  and  he  was  supposing  he  would 
be  called  on  to  buy  the  wedding  dress  itsel',  because 
Annie  said  she  would  never  ask  it  from  you,  seeing 
that  you  were  so  set  against  her  marriage." 

"  Roy  Morrison  will  never,  never,  be  called  upon 
to  buy  Annie  Brodick's  wedding  dress.  I'll  vow 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  69 

that  with  crossed  hands.  He  has  not  given  her  an 
engagement  ring  yet." 

"  I  am  talking  of  the  wedding  garments.  Well 
you  know  if  the  village  get  hold  of  such  a  story,  it 
might  come — in  your  position-^-to  be  a  Kirk  in- 
quiry." 

"Sarah!    Sarah  I    It  is  all  a  mistake." 

"  Maybe  it  is,  maybe  it  is  not.  If  Annie  had  been 
going  to  marry  the  Minister,  I  think  you  would  have 
minded  yourself  of  the  necessary  outfit.  I'm  pretty 
sure  you  would." 

'  You  are  a  searching  woman.  Maybe  I  would. 
But  this  fault,  thanks  to  you,  is  not  past  mending. 
I'll  see  to  it  this  same  night.  I  am  thanking  you, 
also,  for  the  plain  words  you  have  said  to  me;  they 
are  dutiful;  I'll  attend  to  them." 

"  The  wounds  of  a  friend — you  know,  Robert." 

"  I  know.  If  I  see  my  duty,  I  am  neither  dull 
nor  hesitating  about  the  uptake  o1  it." 

"Well,  then,  what  about  a  home  for  the  young 
things?  They  be  to  have  some  place  to  lay  their 
heads." 

"  That  is  not  my  business.  No  man  has  a  right 
to  marry  till  he  has  made  a  home  for  his  wife." 

"  Roy  has  but  a  small  salary." 

"  Yet  he  daured  to  come  seeking  Annie  Brodiclc. 


70  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

I  thought  from  that  circumstance,  he  was  paid  well 
enough  to  keep  a  wife  in  comfort.  I'm  fairly  amazed 
at  the  man's  presumption." 

"  Deacon,  you  know  well  that  Love  will  venture 
in  without  asking  whether  he  is  welcome  or  not. 
What  will  you  do  about  furnishing  a  home,  if  I  pay 
the  rent  for  a  year?  " 

"  Nothing.    Nothing  at  all." 

"  In  another  year,  Roy  will  maybe  have  a  larger 
salary,  and  then " 

"  Sarah,  I  cannot  abide  such  words  as  '  maybe/ 
'  perhaps,'  and  '  likely.'  They  are  wicked,  wasteful 
guideposts  to  ruin  of  some  kind  or  other.  If  Roy 
really  loved  Annie,  he  would  have  been  saving  his 
money  to  furnish  a  home  for  her.  Anyway,  Sarah, 
I  will  not  do  it  for  him." 

"  Folks  are  expecting " 

"  Let  them  expect." 

"There  is  another  thing,  Robert.  If  you  do 
nothing  for  Roy,  it  is  as  good  as  saying  you  have 
no  confidence  in  him.  That  will  hurt  the  lad." 

"  I  have  no  confidence  in  him.    That  is  the  truth." 

"  People  may  even  say  that  you  are  believing  that 
silly  report  about  Annie's  name  on  Will's  boat." 

"  Sarah,  I  am  believing  it.    Don't  cry,  woman." 

"  Oh,  Robert,  how  can  you  ?  " 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  71 

"  It  was  hard  to  do,  but  I  had  that  witness  within 
that  never  yet  deceived  me." 

"  And  if  you  believe  such  a  mean,  cowardly  thing 
of  the  lad,  however  can  you  let  him  marry  your 
daughter?" 

"  I  do  not  let  him.  I  cannot  let  him,  nor  can  I 
hinder.  Both  God  and  men  let  many  things  happen 
they  don't  will  to  happen — far  from  it.  Annie  has 
made  up  her  mind,  and  her  mind  is  as  dour  and  stiff 
as  your  own,  or  mine.  Nobody  but  Roy  himself  can 
prevent  her  marrying  Roy." 

"  He  will  never  prevent  her.  He  loves  her.  How 
could  he  prevent  the  marriage?  It  isna  possible." 

"  One  way  only — let  Roy  Morrison  do  a  single 
wrong  that  he  cannot  explain  away — that  he  cannot 
sneak  out  of — that  he  is  obliged  to  confess — and 
Annie  would " 

"  Forgive  him." 

"  She  would  not.  The  girl  is  so  compounded  of 
truth  and  honor  and  honesty,  she  could  not  forgive 
him.  These  virtues  are  herself.  Whoever  betrayed 
one  of  them,  would  be  betraying  her.  To  put  him 
away  would  be  the  plucking  out  o'  the  right  eye,  but 
it  would  be  plucked  out.  Forgive,  ay,  she  might, 
for  Christ's  sake,  but  she  would  bid  him  good-bye 
forever,  with  the  forgiving  words  on  her  lips.  What 


72  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

for?  Because  she  would  have  ceased  to  love  him.  I 
know.  I  know  Annie  by  myself." 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  As  she  asked 
this  question  she  laid  another  fish  on  the  Deacon's 
plate,  and  refilled  his  cup.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do  about  the  whole  matter?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  give  Annie  fifty  pounds  to-night 
for  her  clothes — they  will  be  hers  anyway.  Is  that 
enough  ?  " 

"  I  would  add  twenty-five  pounds  for  the  wedding 
dress." 

"  I  will — when  the  wedding  is  certain." 

"  Losh,  man!     You  are  an  unbelieving  creature." 

"Is  that  all  you  wanted  with  me,  Sarah?" 

"  At  present." 

"Then  we  will  drop  the  subject.  Do  you  know 
that  Mr.  Saunders  is  leaving  us  on  Friday?" 

"Never!" 

"  He  is.  There  is  a  young  man  coming  here,  not 
so  very  long  out  o*  the  Divinity  classes.  He'll  being 
knowing  everything,  of  course." 

"And  where  is  Mr.  Saunders  going?" 

41  To  fill  St.  Mark's  pulpit,  Glasgo'.  Think  o' 
that." 

"  I  have  more  profitable  thoughts.  How  did  you 
get  this  young  Divinity  lad  for  our  Kirk?" 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  73 

**  He  has  been  working  among  the  soldiers  in 
Edinburgh — and  he  has  made  a  grand  record  for 
himself.  I  was  hearing  tell  that  our  Duke — no  less — 
spoke  to  Elder  Ruthven  about  him.  The  Duke  said 
he  had  heard  him  talking  to  the  soldiers,  till  he  had 
their  hearts  in  his  hand." 

"And  what  kin  will  he  be  to  the  Duke?" 

"  None." 

"Then  what  for  was  the  Duke  trying  to  place 
him?" 

"  Naturally,  he  wanted  a  good  man  in  his  own 
town.  Elder  Ruthven  went  to  Edinburgh,  and  heard 
him  preach,  and  at  the  long  end  got  him  to  come 
here  for  the  season.  He  wasn't  carin'  to  come." 

"Why  not?  Were  we  not  rich  enough,  or  good 
enough  for  him  ?  " 

"  He  was  feared  we  were  too  good — too  respect- 
able. He  is  for  looking  after  the  sinners." 

Mistress  Lochrigg  laughed  scornfully.  "  With 
such  lads  as  my  Roy  is  thought  to  be,"  she  said,  "  and 
with  Glasgo'  trippers,  roaring  full  o*  whiskey,  and 
Glasgo'  boarders,  trying  to  cheat  you  out  o*  every 
bawbee  not  signed  and  sealed  for,  he'll  find  sinners 
enough,  I'll  warrant,  to  keep  him  busy.  What  is  the 
name  o'  the  man? " 

"  James  Alexander  Archibald  Crieff." 


74  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Then  he'll  be  a  Hielandman?  " 

"  More  than  likely.  He's  a  born  fighter — all  Hie- 
landmen  are  that,  but  he  is  wanting  spiritual  battles, 
and  spiritual  victories." 

"  I  know  them  kind,  Robert.  The  Salvation  Army 
crowd  belong  to  them.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  the 
names  o'  the  Glasgow  contingent  was  taken  if  nine- 
tenths  o'  them  were  *  Macs '  o'  some  clan  or  other." 

"You  are  wrong  there,  Sarah.  It  was  the  Hie- 
land  host,  led  by  Chalmers,  that  gave  us  the  Free 
Kirk,  and  sowed  Free  Kirks  o'er  the  length  and 
breadth  o'  Scotland." 

"  He'll  be  for  putting  everything  right  in  Arran, 
and  we  will  hae  to  thole  his  gushing  condescensions. 
He'll  try  to  make  us  see  that  every  one  but  himself 
is  grossly  ignorant — but  he'll  bear  wi'  us — he'll  bear 
wi'  us.  And  you  can't  reason  wi'  young  men;  they 
move  in  the  sublime  circle  o'  their  own  parfec- 
tions." 

"  I'll  speak  later,  Sarah.  Ruthven  should  have 
remembered  that  we  are  not  babes  in  the  Word,  but 
men;  and  men  who  want  an  experienced  teacher. 
But  good-night,  Sarah.  His  blessing  be  with  you. 
I  must  haste  me  home.  Annie  will  be  wondering 
what  keeps  me.  Thank  you,  Sarah,  for  your  kind- 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  75 

"  You  are  saying  '  tfiank  you '  now,  Robert,  but 
I'm  feared  you  will  put  my  plain  speaking  down 
against  me,  later  on." 

"  You  know  I  will  not.' 

"  I  am  your  true  friend,  Robert." 

"  You  have  just  proved  that,  for  any  one  who 
makes  a  man  do  what  he  ought  to  do,  and  can  do, 
is  the  noblest  of  friends.  I  was  nearly  forgetting 
Will.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  a  few  days." 

"  The  lad  has  a  sore  heartache." 

"About  Annie?" 

"  Ay,  just  about  Annie." 

"So  you  told  him?" 

"Not  I.  Roy  told  him  the  morning  after  the 
words  w'ere  said.  Roy  was  that  set  up  he  could  not 
keep  quiet  about  his  good  fortune.  I  asked  him  to 
let  the  news  find  Will;  said  anybody  would  be  better 
than  himself,  but  he  could  not  do  as  I  counselled." 

"  It  was  like  Roy.    What  did  Will  say?  " 

"  For  a  few  moments,  not  a  word.  He  sat  with 
his  eyes  dropped  glowering  into  his  coffee  cup.  And 
I  could  not  find  a  word  either.  At  last  Will  got  to 
his  feet  and  said,  *  Roy,  you  have  won  the  best  and 
sweetest  girl  in  Arran.  I  hope  you'll  be  good  to 
her.  God  bless  you,  both ! '  He  has  been  a  silent, 
lonely  man  even  since.  Last  Saturday  he  went  to 


76  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

Glisgow  to  speak  to  McBrine.  He  thought  a  long 
ycyage  would  be  best  for  him.  Maybe  he'll  get 
one,  and  Roy  will  be  married  when  he  comes  back, 
and  when  Annie  is  another  man's  wife,  Will  isn't  the 
scoundrel  to  give  her  an  unlawful  thought." 

"  And  how  is  all  going  with  yourself,  Sarah?  Are 
you  likely  to  have  a  good  season?  " 

"  Weel,  Robert,  I  have  only  three  rooms  rented 
yet — for  it's  not  every  kind  o'  body  that  wins  o'er 
Sarah  Lochrigg's  doorstep — but  I  had  news  to-day 
of  the  tip-top  o'  the  boarding  gentry — no  less  than 
the  famous  Dr.  Andrew  Balmuto  and  his  daughter. 
I  am  thinking  your  Annie  knows  the  young  lady — 
that  they  went  to  the  same  school  in  Glasgow.  Well 
then,  they  are  coming  to-morrow." 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  Annie  knows  baith  father 
and  daughter.  I  have  heard  her  speak  the  name,  and 
I  think  there  was  letters  passing  when  Annie  first 
came  home,  but  they  have  stopped  this  while  back. 
Girls'  love  isna  like  men's  love.  Of  course  excepts, 
like  my  wife  and  yoursel',  Sarah." 

"  Women  fall  in  love,  and  then  there's  men  folk, 
and  bairns,  and  this  and  that  to  do,  or  see  about,  but 
they  are  not  forgetting.  No,  no;  they  are  not  for- 
getting, and  if  the  opportunity  comes,  it  is  gey  easy 
to  kindle  the  old  love." 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  77 

"  Very  like  it  is  so.    Once  more,  good-bye,  Sarah." 

She  watched  him  outside  the  garden  gate,  but  he 
never  turned  his  head.  "  It  would  have  been  unlike 
him  if  he  had,"  she  mused.  "  Robert  isn't  one  to 
look  back  after  he  has  set  his  face  the  right  way,  but 
he  is  a  grand  man,  and  I  am  glad  I  showed  him  his 
fault.  For  he  is  sure  to  trample  any  sin  under  his 
feet,  if  he  but  get  a  blink  o'  it." 

Brodick  walked  rapidly  home.  He  had  lingered 
long  behind  his  usual  hour,  and  he  was  sure  Annie 
was  wondering  at  his  delay,  even  perhaps  anxious 
about  it.  But  though  he  was  hurried,  he  could  not 
be  insensible  to  the  beauty  of  the  departing  day. 
There  was  an  unimaginable  sunset — a  soft  sky  in 
mystic  waves  of  color,  all  aglow  with  the  sun's  last 
beams,  a  twilight  already  settling  like  a  grey  veil 
over  the  misty  hills,  a  twilight  trinkling  with  dews, 
and  a  sea  so  calm  that  it  looked  like  a  sky  beneath 
him.  "  The  Sea  is  His,  and  He  made  it,  and  His 
Hands  fashioned  the  dry  land."  These  words  were 
his  most  frequent  reflection,  and  as  he  was  repeating 
them,  he  saw  Annie  waiting  for  him  at  the  open 
gate.  He  could  feel  her  smile  before  he  saw  it,  and 
her  words  went  forth  pleasantly  to  meet  him — 

"  O  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  father !  I  thought 
long  o*  your  tarrying." 


78  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  But  you  werena  feared  for  me,  Annie?  " 

"  Me  feared  I  And  for  you  ?  Not  likely.  I  knew 
surely,  that  whatever,  or  whoever  kept  you,  it  was 
all  right." 

'*  Even  so,  lassie.  And  I  have  some  news  for  you. 
Have  you  had  your  tea  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  caring  for  it,  till  you  came  home." 

"  But  now  serve  yourself  at  once.  I  have  had  a 
good  meal.  Do  you  want  the  trout  ?  " 

She  laughed,  and  held  up  the  four  little  half- 
pounders.  "  Was  this  the  whole  o'  your  day's  work? 
The  trout  must  have  had  a  gey  easy  time  wi*  you 
to-day,  father." 

"  I  caught  a  few  more  than  them,  but  I  had  to 
stop  in  at  Sarah  Lochrigg's,  and  she  fried  some,  and 
made  me  a  cup  o'  tea,  and  we  had  our  talk,  as  we 
ate  and  drank  together." 

"Ohl" 

"  She  is  a  noble  woman,  there  are  not  many  like 
her" — then  he  told  her  the  condition  of  Timothy 
Buchan's  family,  and  what  Sarah  had  been  doing 
for  them,  and  again  remarked — "  She  is  a  noble 


woman." 


"  She  is — in  some  ways.  But  she  has  a  very  stir- 
ring temper,  and  I'm  thinking  she  was  speaking 
to-day  of  what  is  past  and  gone,  and  had  better  be 


The   Deacon   is   Reproved  79 

left  alone.  What  is  the  good  of  moving  about  in 
muddy  water?  " 

"You  are  meaning?" 

"  I  am  meaning  the  trouble  between  her  nephews. 
Poor  Roy !  I'll  warrant  he  got  the  wyte  o*  her  sharp 
tongue." 

"  She  had  only  good  words  for  Roy.  I  was  think- 
ing she  excused  him  over  much.  Excusing  is  accusing 
— mostly." 

"  You  are  right,  father.  When  folks  are  innocent, 
they  are  foolish  friends  who  go  about  explaining. 
Silence  is  the  best  answer.  But  whoever  put  out  our 
name,  it  was  not  a  crime  against  the  Law.  Spite  is 
not  a  punishable  offence." 

"  Annie,  it  is  not  crime  that  tempts  men  mostly. 
It  is  meanness,  meeserable,  little,  dirty  faults;  just 
outside  the  Law's  jurisdiction.  I  think  better  of  a 
man  that  in  a  moment  of  temptation,  or  passion, 
commits  a  crime,  than  I  do  of  a  cowardly  blackguard 
sneaking  through  the  darkness  to  satisfy  his  malice 
and  spite;  not  on  the  body — for  that  is  punishable 
by  the  Law — but  on  the  tenderest  feelings  of  the 
Soul,  which  is  a  crime  beyond  the  Law." 

"  I  think  such  a  crime  ought  to  be  punished  by  the 
Law." 

11  There  have  been  hours,  Annie,  when  I  would 


8o  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

have  liked  well  to  have  horsewhipped  the  dastard 
who  blacked  our  name.  I  would  have  given  him  the 
Mosaic  limit.  Yes,  it  would  have  been  an  extraor- 
dinar  satisfaction." 

"  You  did  not  take  it.    I  am  glad  o'  that." 

"  I  had  not  the  right  to  take  it.  '  The  Lord  be- 
holdeth  mischief  and  spite  to  requite  it.'  1,'ve  had 
no  authority  given  me,  to  do  His  work." 

"You  said  you  had  news,  father?" 

"Ay,  Sarah  told  me  that  Dr.  Balmuto  and  hfs 
daughter  were  coming  to  her  house  for  the  season. 
They  have  rented  her  big  parlor,  and  two  of  her 
best  bedrooms.  She  is  much  set  up  about  the  cir- 
cumstance." 

"  Dr.  Balmuto.  It  must  be  the  same — his  daugh- 
ter Marion  was  thick  with  me  when  we  were  in 
school  together.  She  is  a  queer,  wee  body,  but  bon- 
nie !  Bonnie  is  no  word  for  her  beauty,  she  somehow 
bewilders  a  man.  We  wrote  to  each  other  for  a  year, 
then  we  had  not  a  penful  to  say,  for  I  did  not  know 
her  friends,  and  she  didn't  know  mine,  and  it  was 
wearisome  writing  o'er  and  o'er  that  we  loved  each 
other,  and  didn't  forget.  But  I've  been  waiting.  I 
was  sure  I  had  not  done  with  Marion  Balmuto,  and 
lo,  here  she  comes  again !  " 

They  talked  of  the  Balmutos  and  the  new  Minister, 
until  Annie  had  finished  her  tea,  and  the  Deacon 


The   Deacon  is   Reproved  8ii 

had  smoked  a  solacing  pipe;  then  while  the  dishes 
were  carried  away,  and  the  room  tidied,  he  went  to 
his  own  room,  and  remained  there  for  half-an-hour. 
When  he  returned  to  the  house  place  Annie  was 
sitting  at  a  small  round  table  sewing.  A  lamp  was 
burning  brightly  before  her,  and  its  white  light  fell 
over  her  pretty  hands,  and  the  brown  silk  ruffle  she 
was  hemming.  More  ruffles  of  the  same  kind  were 
lying  on  the  table,  and  Brodick  lifted  one  as  he 
passed,  and  looked  wistfully  at  it. 

"  This  silk  has  a  familiar  look,  Annie,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  she  answered 
in  a  voice  full  of  tenderness — "It  was  mother's.  It 
is  part  of  the  dress  she  wore  on  the  last  sacramental 
occasion  she  ever  kept.  It  was  a  new  dress  that  day, 
and  she  never  wore  it  again." 

"  What  are  you  making  with  it?  " 

"  I  am  making  it  over  for  a  kirking  dress." 

"  You  mean — you  mean " 

"  I  mean  to  wear  it  to  Kirk  the  Sunday  after  Roy 
and  I  are  married.  It  is  beautiful  silk,  and  all  the 
lov-elier  and  dearer  for  mother  handseling  it  at  her 
last  Sacrament.  Everything  from  my  mother  is  a 
lucky  handsel." 

"  I  have  seen  you  at  your  needle  constant  lately. 
Are  you  making  your  wedding  clothes?  " 

"  You  have  guessed  right,  father.    I  like  to  do  it, 


82  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

I  sew  many  a  loving,  happy  thought  into  them; 
stranger  folk  would,  maybe,  wet  the  thread  with 
their  tears,  and  stitch  their  ain  misfortunate  thoughts 
into  seam  and  hem." 

"  You  should  have  said  a  word  to  me.  You  be  to 
have  new  goods  for  a  new  life,"  and  he  rose  and  laid 
a  fifty-pound  note  before  her.  "  Take  it,  my  dear, 
and  when  the  wedding  dress  is  to  buy,  go  your  ways 
to  Glasgo',  and  get  the  best  o'  its  kind.  Your 
father  will  pay  the  price  o'  it." 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

LOVERS  ALL 

THE  next  morning  Annie  awoke  with  a  song  in  her 
heart,  and  she  was  singing  softly — singing  and 
stopping — and  singing  again — all  the  time  she 
dressed  herself.  The  world  was  so  beautiful^  and 
life  so  full  of  happy  expectations.  She  had  fifty 
pounds  for  her  bride  clothes.  Marion  Balmuto  was 
coming,  and  might  be  a  sweet  companion  for  these 
last  weeks  of  her  girlhood's  life.  True,  she  was  not 
very  sure  of  Marion.  Marion  was  not  of  her  kind; 
she  was  eminently  of  gentle  birth.  She  was  not  of 
her  disposition.  Annie  was  religious — according  to 
the  highest  conception  of  virtue,  morality  and  creed. 
Marion  was  religious  after  that  spiritual  order,  which 
is  perfect  freedom.  Annie  knew  that  the  hearts  of 
all  men  and  women  were  desperately  wicked,  and 
that  her  spiritual  life  must  be  one  long  struggle  for 
victory.  Marion  thought  no  evil  of  any  of  her  fellow 
creatures;  she  loved  all  of  them,  and  she  loved  God, 
and  had  no  consciousness  of  original  sin.  Indeed, 
she  was  astonished,  almost  indignant,  when  told  she 
was  "  naturally  at  enmity  with  God."  She  was  sure 

83 


84  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

she  was  not;  she  knew  that  she  adored  Him  in  the 
smallest  flower  that  grew. 

Of  these  divergencies  Annie  was  partly  aware,  but 
not  wholly  so.  During  the  three  years  which  had 
intervened  since  their  parting  Marion  had  grown  in 
many  directions.  Annie  had  not  strayed  one  footstep 
from  the  narrow  road  her  church  counselled.  But 
though  a  douce  girl  living  by  rule,  and  apparently 
tideless  blooded,  she  was  disposed  to  look  on  the 
bright  side  of  events;  so  that  the  thought  of  Marion's 
coming  was,  after  all,  a  rather  pleasant  expectation. 

It  was  Thursday  morning,  and  it  would  likely  be 
late  before  the  Balmutos  reached  Mistress  Lochrigg's 
house,  and  further,  she  considered,  Marion  would 
have  her  clothing  to  unpack  and  put  into  drawers 
and  awmries;  and  also  her  grandfather  was  certain 
to  bring  with  him  many  books  and  papers,  which 
would  also  be  to  arrange. 

"  I  will  not  call  too  soon,"  she  reflected.  "  They 
will  be  putting  by,  and  laying  out,  for  at  least  two 
days;  and  then  comes  the  Sabbath  Day.  I  will  go 
and  see  Marion  on  Monday;  that  will  be  early 
enough,  for  I  do  not  wtant  the  little  woman  to  think  I 
am  running  after  her.  Often  she  told  me  of  her 
money,  and  family,  and  extreme  gentility.  Well, 
Annie  Brodick  can  afford  to  pass  by  such  things,  with 


Lovers   All  85 

a  whiff  of  her  hand,  and  a  slant  out  of  her  eyes.  She 
can  do  fine,  without  gentility  of  all  kinds. — She  has 
Roy!" 

The  thought  set  her  singing  again,  and  yet  for  all 
that,  she  listened  continually  for  strange  footsteps. 
In  the  afternoon  the  Deacon  went  to  meet  the  new 
Minister,  and  when  he  came  back  Annie  tried  to  read 
his  face.  It  was  inscrutable,  for  he  wished  her  to 
ask  him  for  his  opinions;  but  Annie  had  some  little 
wilful  traits,  and  one  of  them  was  to  restrain  her 
curiosity,  and  thus  force  her  father's  news.  So  when 
she  sat  down  to  tea  with  him,  she  talked  of  the  boat, 
and  the  number  of  passengers,  and  made  queer  re- 
marks about  this,  and  that,  but  she  never  asked  one 
question  about  the  new  Minister.  But  after  his 
second  cup  had  been  served,  the  man  gave  in,  as  he 
is  always  sure  to  do,  if  the  woman  holds  to  her  re- 
pressive tactics. 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  "  the  new  Minister  came." 

"Did  he?" 

"  Ay,  Elder  Ruthven  went  with  me  to  meet  him.  I 
never  saw  Ruthven  look  so  thin  and  so  religious. 
I'm  thinking  he  wanted  the  young  man  to  understand 
at  first  sight  that  there  would  be  no  deviations,  and 
no  new-fangled  ideas  permitted  in  our  Kirk." 

"Then  he  is  a  young  man?" 


86  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Ay,  and  a  rather  handsome  young  man  to  look 
at." 

'  Handsome  is  that  handsome  does,'  "   quoted 
Annie,  "  but  he  is  having  a  good  record — is  he  not?  " 

"  Good?  Yes,  as  to  talking.  Most  young  men 
like  to  talk.  I  can  mind  well,  when  I  thought  I 
would  rather  be  a  preacher  than  a  King.  It  is  a  very 
satisfactory  thing  to  hear  yoursel'  speaking  with 
power  and  freedom." 

Annie  wanted  next  to  know  what  appearance  this 
Apollas  of  the  pulpit  had,  and  she  fixed  upon  his 
name  as  the  best  leader  to  her  object.  "  What  is  the 
young  man's  name,  father?"  she  asked  in  a  non- 
chalant manner. 

"  James  Alexander  Archibald  Crieff." 

"  Preserve  us !  Does  he  sign  all  them  names  to 
his  letters?" 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder.  All  the  letters  sent  to  our 
Kirk  had  the  full  name  to  them." 

"  He  must  be  a  Highlandman." 

"  He  is.  Ruthven  told  me  he  came  from  the 
North — Aberdeen  way,  I  think — but  Elder  Bruce  is 
sure  he  is  a  Moray  or  Sutherland  man." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he  has  their  stature — they  are  all  sons 
o'  Anak." 


Lovers  All  87 

"  He  is  tall  then.  Mr.  Saunders  was  a  wee  man — 
he  had  no  pulpit  presence." 

"  Mr.  Crieff  is  six  feet,  and  three  or  four  inches 
over  it — I'll  say  that,  and  I'll  not  be  mistaken." 

"You  think  him  handsome?" 

"  Well,  I  think  he  is  not  un-handsome.  The  man 
has  red  hair.  I'm  not  liking  red  hair." 

"  If  he  shaves  clean,  you  may  put  up  with  the 
hair  on  his  head.  And  a  fine  skin  goes  with  red 
hair." 

"  Freckly, — but  he  has  a  big  white  brow,  and  a 
pleasant  mouth,  and  a  straight  nose,  and  two  grey 
eyes  that  dirl  themselves  clean  through  you." 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  given  my  heart  away,  else  I 
might  have  fallen  in  love  with  this  red-haired  High- 
lander." 

"  It  would  be  easy  for  any  woman  to  do  worse." 

"  He  will  have  a  great  congregation  o'  the  women 
folk,  no  doubt.  Does  he  look  like  a  gentleman,  or 
is  he  like  Mr.  Saunders,  out  o'  some  bit  shop  in  the 
Candleriggs  street  o'  Glasgow?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  gentleman,  Annie?  " 

"  Tell  me  how  he  was  dressed." 

"  O I  it  is  the  man's  clothes,  is  it?  Weel,  he  wasn't 
Pressed  like  a  Minister  at  all." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.     Poor  Mr.  Saunders  was 


88  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

fairly  choking  with  his  ministerial  dignity.    He  could 
hardly  turn   his  head   for   the   stiff   neckband   he 


wore." 


"  There  was  no  starch  in  Mr.  Crieff 's  neckband. 
It  was  just  a  soft  bit  o'  black  silk." 

"Black!" 

"  Ay,  blade." 

"  I  am  fairly  astonished.  But  Mr.  James  A.  A. 
Crieff  is  going  to  be  interesting,  if  his  words  are  as 
comfortable  as  his  clothes.  Did  he  wear  a  black 
coat?" 

"  Not  he !  The  first  thing  I  noticed  was  his  hand- 
some suit  o'  grey  tweeds." 

"  Father,  you  are  an  extraordinar  observer.  Few 
women  would  not  have  seen  as  much  of  the  man. 
Nothing  escapes  you." 

The  Deacon  was  much  pleased  at  the  compliment ; 
it  coincided  with  his  own  private  opinion  regarding 
his  power  of  heedful,  intelligent  notice.  "  Weel, 
Annie,"  he  answered,  "  a  man  who  has  watched  the 
winds  and  the  sea  for  thirty  years,  and  learned  every 
puff  o'  the  winds,  and  every  frill  o'  the  sea,  is  bound 
to  be  an  observing  man.  So  I  didn't  miss  much  o1 
the  personality  o'  Mr.  Crieff.  I  made  special  notice 
o'  his  pocket  handkerchief — it  was  that  fine  and 
white,  and  the  big  ring  on  his  finger  wasn't  bought 


Lovers  All  89 

for  a  few  bawbees,  and  the  shoes  and  stockings  on 
his  feet,  and  the  gloves  on  his  hands,  were  of  the 
best  quality;  and  the  cut  o'  his  soft  hat  was  the  same 
cut  as  the  one  I  saw  the  Duke  wearing  two  days  ago; 
and  much  o'  the  same  color  likewise." 

"Was  it  black?" 

"  It  was  not.  It  was  the  color  o'  the  Tweed  suit 
he  was  wearing;  and  his  gloves  were  not  a  shade 
different." 

"  What  a  dandy !  I  never  heard  tell  of  a  Minister 
out  of  his  '  blacks '  unless  he  was  in  his  study,  or 
digging  his  garden,  or  some  other  secular  work." 

"  But  he  is  not  a  dandy — don't  you  think  it.  Noth- 
ing at  all  like  Dandy  Faulds,  and  such  men.  He  had 
an  earnest  face,  and  a  purposeful  way;  forbye  a 
pleasant  laugh,  and  a  trifle  o'  Highland  accent  in  his 
speech;  ay,  and  a  trick  o'  drawing  his  white  hand 
across  his  brow  and  eyes,  as  if  he  wanted  to  see 
clearer.  I  liked  him — prudently,  of  course — to  begin 
with." 

"  He  will  not  be  here  long.  I  can  prophesy  that 
far." 

"  He  is  not  intending  to  stop  longer  than  the  Sum- 
mer lasts.  He  has  what  he  calls  *  his  Settlement '  to 
look  after.  At  present  his  settlers  are  in  the  moun- 
tains for  the  hot  weather,  but  they'll  be  back  to  the 


90  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

planestones  o'  Edinburgh  streets  early  in  September, 
and  then " 

"  He  will  go  back  to  them?  " 

"  No  doubt  o'  that." 

;<  Thank  you,  father.  I  know  the  man  now  as  well 
as  if  I  had  seen  him.  Will  he  preach  next  Sabbath 
Day?" 

"  As  far  as  I  know,  he  will." 

"  I  am  very  curious,  but  I  can  wait  until  the  Sab- 
bath." 

"  Annie  Brodick !  You  will  go  to  Kirk  to  worship 
God,  not  to  see  the  Minister;  or  else  you'll  bide  at 
hame." 

"  Father,  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"  It  is  a  good  plan  to  say  what  you  mean.  You 
haven't  asked  a  question  about  the  Balmutos.  I  saw 
them  both — an  auld  man  and  a  slender  slip  of  a 
girl." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  them  on  Monday." 

"  Why  not  to-morrow?  " 

"  It  is  not  the  custom  to  call  upon  visitors  at  once. 
You  must  give  them  two  or  three  days  to  settle." 

"  Weel,  if  you  care  so  little  about  them  as  to  wait 
upon  custom,  I  would  not  go  at  all.  Write  and  ask 
her  to  spend  Monday  with  you.  I  am  going  to 
Glasgow  as  early  as  maybe." 


Lovers   All  91; 

"  I  will  think  about  it,  father.  Marion  used 
to  be  trying  at  times.  She  isn't  a  worldlike  per- 
son." 

"  All  the  better  for  you." 

"  I'm  doubting  that.  While  we  are  in  this  world 
we  must  be  content  with  it.  Marion  was  always  try- 
ing to  get  beyond  what  is  revealed ;  yes,  to  get  beyond 
even  the  probabilities.  She  is  a  thought  too  spiritual 
for  the  temporal." 

"  I'm  not  understanding." 

'*  That  is  it;  you  can't  explain  her;  and  you  can't 
understand  her.  She  is  whiles  incomprehensible,  and 
says  things  you  can  neither  make  sensible,  nor  foolish. 
But  she  is  good  and  loving ;  "  and  then  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  truth  from  the  inward  part  she  added,  "  Per- 
haps I  am  jealous  of  her.  She  is  beyond  me  every 
way.  I  will  write  and  ask  her  to  spend  Monday 
with  me." 

The  next  morning  as  Annie  sat  sewing  in  the  sun- 
shine, there  was  a  soft  knock  upon  the  door.  She 
turned  quickly  towards  it,  and  saw  Marion  standing 
just  outside  its  shadow — a  small,  slender  figure 
clothed  in  white,  cross-bar  muslin  frock;  and  on  her 
head  a  Tuscan  hat.  There  was  a  joyful  cry  of  recog- 
nition, and  then  Annie  untied  the  hat,  and  Marion's 
face  came  fully  out  from  beneath  its  broad  rose- 


92  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

trimmed  brim.  Annie  kissed  it,  and  said  with  a  rare 
show  of  affection — 

"  My  dear  Marion,  you  have  more  than  your  old 
charm.  I'm  feeling  sure  I  shall  be  your  slave  again." 

"  No,  no,  my  friend  Annie ;  though  it  is  a  kind  of 
slavery  to  put  up  with  my  queer  ideas  and  feelings; 
grandfather  says  so,  and  sometimes  he  loses  his 
temper  with  me — you  never  did." 

"  Nor  am  I  likely  to.  You  are  very  little  changed, 
just  as  childlike  as  ever.  What  have  you  been  doing 
these  past  three  years?  " 

"  I  have  been  reading  books  grandfather  thinks 
I  would  be  wise  not  to  read." 

"  Why  do  you  not  obey  him  ?  He  knows  more 
than  you  do." 

"  He  knows  nothing  about  that  Divine  Other, 
that  Thee  in  Me  who  dwells  behind  the  fleshly  veil. 
And,  Annie,  I  want  to  find  out,  I  want  to  find  out; 
the  real  woman  in  me  cannot  rest  by  night  or  day. 
She  was  born  into  this  life  with  wings,  I  think,  and 
they  fret,  fret,  fret  upon  my  soul.  I  want  to  go 
home." 

"You  are  always  at  home,  Marion.  No  one  has 
a  better  home  than  you  have." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand !  Yes,  I  have  a  good 
home  for  this  Marion  " — and  she  stroked  her  bare 


Lovers  All  93 

arms  and  lovely  face  with  her  small  hands — "  but 
this  Marion  has  a  guest,  a  soul  that,  wandering,  lost 
its  way;  and  my  little  body  was  the  special  home  it 
happened  on ;  but  it  is  always  crying  for  its  lost  heav- 
enly home,  and  I  am  always  seeking  a  road,  Annie, 
always  seeking — always  seeking." 

"  My  dear  Marion."  That  was  all  the  reply 
Annie  could  make.  She  was  in  the  presence  of  a  soul 
seeing  by  a  sense  of  which  she  was  ignorant.  Annie's 
life  was  clearly  above  consciousness,  her  religion  set 
firmly  upon  a  foundation  defined  by  creed,  catechism 
and  infallible  church;  but  Marion's  life  was,  in  its 
best  sense,  below  consciousness;  along  that  frontier 
of  shining  table-land  illumined  by  the  Divine  Other, 
the  Thee  in  Me,  and  the  tidings-bringing  Angels. 

Now,  to  oppose  to  Marion's  spiritual  cravings 
some  strong  material  interest  had  been  Annie's 
method  with  her  friend  in  their  former  intercourse, 
and  she  could  think  of  no  better  plan  at  the  present 
hour.  So  she  drew  her  chair  closer,  and  said  with 
sweet  enthusiasm — "  How  pretty  you  are,  Marion !  " 
And  Marion  smiled  and  lifted  a  spray  of  Lemon 
Verbena  to  her  friend's  face — 

"  Has  it  not  a  heavenly  perfume  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I 
have  heard  the  Angels  like  to  rest  in  gardens  where 
it  grows." 


94  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  I  thought  you  never  pulled  a  flower." 

"  I  never  do.  Every  flower  loves  its  life,  and  I 
dare  not  destroy  what  I  cannot  give.  Mrs.  Lochrigg 
put  this  spray  in  my  hand  with  a  good  wish.  So  I 
keep  the  leaves  for  the  hope  they  carry.  Verbena 
is  the  harbinger  of  strange  news,  or  the  bringer  of 
strange  guests." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"  Do  you  think  flowers  have  no  message?  All  of 
them  carry  a  mystery.  When  a  stranger  gives  you  a 
flower,  something  will  happen,  notice  what  it  is,  and 
you  have  the  message  of  the  flower." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Marion,  something  that  is  going 
to  happen — my  marriage — perhaps  in  August  or  Sep- 
tember. Will  you  be  my  bridesmaid?  " 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  that !  Who  are  you  going  to 
marry?  Is  he  good?  Does  he  love  you ?  What  are 
you  going  to  wear?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  advise  me.  I  know  very  little  about 
fashions." 

"  There  is  only  one  fashion,  and  one  color  for  a 
bride.  Tell  me  all  about  it.  Are  you  making  your 
own  clothes?" 

"  Yes,  and  with  my  own  hands." 

"  I  should  think  so ;  fancy  making  wedding  clothes, 
on  a  machine — oil  and  dirt,  and  loose  ends,  all  over 


Lovers  All  95 

them.  I  do  not  intend  to  marry,  but  if  it  happened, 
I  would  sew  with  my  own  fingers  every  garment  full 
of  love,  and  dreams,  and  romances." 

"  Will  you  come  and  sew  some  love  and  dreams 
into  my  garments?  " 

"  That  would  give  me  pleasure.  I  will  come  on 
Monday  morning." 

Then  Annie  showed  her  the  garments  completed, 
and  told  her  about  those  intended,  and  they  were 
soon  lost  in  an  enthusiastic  discussion  concerning 
things  proper  and  possible,  and  impossible.  Suddenly 
there  was  an  imperative  knock  at  the  door,  and  Annie 
dropped  the  cloth  in  her  hand,  and  went  to  answer 
it.  Marion  stood  looking  at  the  intruder,  vaguely 
curious,  but  without  interest,  childlike  indeed  in  her 
complete  absence  of  shyness  or  self-consciousness. 

Yet  both  girls  knew  instinctively  that  it  was  the 
new  Minister;  and  a  faint  smile  accompanied  Annie's 
quick  thought  of  his  lengthy  name.  She  might  of 
course  address  him  as  a  stranger,  and  so  compel  him 
to  introduce  himself;  but  this  plan  never  entered 
Annie's  mind.  She  knew  who  it  was,  why  should  she 
pretend  not  to  know?  So  she  said  frankly — 

"  You  are  Mr.  Crieff,  I  am  thinking?  " 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Crieff's  life  was  in  his  eyes. 
He  was  gazing  at  Marion,  and  he  could  not  at  once 


96  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

command  his  speech.  So  Annie  said  again — "  You 
are  Mr.  Crieff,  I  am  thinking?" 

Then  he  regarded  her  with  an  enforced  smile  and 
answered,  "  You  are  right,  Miss  Brodick.  Miss 
Brodick — is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  Annie  Brodick.  Do  you  wish  to  see 
my  father,  Sir?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  do  so.    Is  he  at  home?" 

"  He  will  be  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Can  I  wait  here  for  him?  " 

"  Come  in,  Sir,"  and  she  swept  from  the  table  the 
obtruding  garments,  and  led  him  to  Marion.  "  My 
friend,  Mis  Balmuto,"  she  said.  Then  Marion 
bowed,  and  lifted  her  eyes  to  meet  Crieff's  love-laden 
gaze.  Quick  as  a  flash  of  thought,  she  was  so  trans- 
figured by  a  wave  of  rosy  color,  which  spread  over 
her  face,  and  throat,  and  arms,  and  eloquent  hands, 
that  her  whole  body  seemed  to  think  and  feel.  What- 
ever was  the  cause  of  this  emotion,  it  was  new  and 
charming  to  her;  and  she  liked  the  bringer  of  it.  As 
he  talked  with  Annie,  she  silently  watched  him,  some- 
times lifting  her  eyes  to  his  face,  only  to  know  again 
that  strange  awakening  which  accentuated  her  sense 
of  life  a  thousand  fold. 

And  Crieff  in  these  flashing  glances  filled  his  soul 
with  her  picture.  He  had  seen  many  lovely  women, 


Lovers  All  97 

and  he  acknowledged  Annie  Brodick  as  among  them ; 
but  Marion  was  a  being  altogether  apart  and  differ- 
ent— a  little  creature  in  a  check-bar  muslin  frock,  her 
black  hair  plainly  banded,  her  large  soft  eyes  full  of 
a  joy  he  did  not  understand,  because  none  know  it 
but  they  who  seek  it  alone;  her  dreamy  smile,  her 
quiet,  her  neatness,  and,  above  all,  her  innocent  sim- 
plicity, charmed  him.  He  had  come  into  the  room  a 
free  man,  he  was  to  leave  it  a  bondman  to  emotions 
from  which  he  desired  no  release. 

Towards  twelve  o'clock  the  Deacon  sent  word 
he  would  not  be  home  for  dinner,  and  Crieff  rose  to 
depart.  "  I  am  going  to  Mrs.  Lochrigg's,"  he  said, 
"  and  if  Miss  Balmuto  will  accept  my  escort  we  can 
walk  there  together."  Marion  made  neither  demurs 
nor  excuses;  she  lifted  her  hat,  and  Crieff  stood,  lost 
in  admiration,  while  Annie  tied  the  pink  ribbons 
under  her  wilful  little  chin,  and  laid  the  rosebuds 
above  the  shadowy  black  hair. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Annie,"  she  said;  "  I  will  come 
on  Monday  morning  and  help  you  to  sew;"  then 
turning  to  Crieff,  she  added,  "  Now  I  will  go  home 
with  you."  Annie  sauntered  with  them  through  the 
garden,  and  then  watched  them  a  while  down  the 
road.  Crieff  had  taken  his  place  at  Marion's  side, 
and  was  walking  there  as  angels  may  walk  in  Para- 


98  The   Handa  of   Compulsion 

disc  when  there  is  joy  because  of  some  great  good 
that  has  come  to  the  souls  they  love  on  earth. 

Somehow  the  sight  of  this  uncontrollable  falling 
in  love  made  Annie  sad.  What  adoration,  what  fear, 
and  joy,  and  loss  of  self  there  was  in  it !  If  this  was 
the  real  manifestation  of  Love,  what  could  she  think 
of  Roy?  For  a  while  she  troubled  herself  over  the 
difference,  but  her  faith  in  her  lover  soon  suggested 
a  reason  for  it: — • 

"  No  two  men,"  she  thought,  "  look  alike,  or  act 
alike  in  any  capacity,  and  love-making  is  such  a  very 
personal  thing,  it  stands  to  reason,  that  every  man  will 
make  love  in  a  different  way.  And,"  she  continued, 
"  I  am  far  from  thinking  Mr.  Crieff's  way  would  be 
satisfactory  to  me.  A  man  who  can't  carry  his  love 
secretly  is  a  very  open  creature;  Roy's  way  suits  me 
perfectly." 

All  the  long  Summer  afternoon  she  thought  and 
sewed,  but  she  did  not  sing,  and  when  the  Deacon 
came  home,  she  did  not  open  her  heart  to  him.  She 
had  told  herself  that  the  events  surrounding  her  were 
now  laid  ready  for  happenings  of  all  kinds,  and  that 
it  would  be  the  part  of  wisdom  to  mind  her  own 
affairs,  and  let  others  make  any  move  that  was  either 
foredoomed  or  yet  to  be  bespoken. 

She  was  expecting  Roy  and  anxious  for  the  com- 


Lovers  All  99 

fort  of  his  presence,  for  a  vague  feeling  of  something 
not  right  floated  on  the  horizon  of  her  soul.  It  was 
but  a  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  but  she 
wished  it  dispersed;  and  felt  as  if  Roy's  beaming 
smile  and  generally  light-hearted  temper  would  put 
all  right.  So  she  was  glad  when  she  heard  his 
footsteps,  and  she  went  into  the  garden  to  meet 
him. 

"  Father  is  in  his  room,  Roy,  making  his  heart  quiet 
for  the  Sabbath.  He  always  has  a  still  hour  or  two 
after  Saturday's  sunset — the  preparation,  you  know — 
so  we  will  stay  here,  and  talk  a  little.  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you." 

Roy  looked  at  her  gloomily.  His  manner  was  un- 
responsive, he  was  evidently  in  a  bad  temper,  and  he 
soon  began  to  give  his  reasons  for  it — 

"  I'm  worried  out  o'  myself,  Annie,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Roy.    What  is  wrong  now  ?  " 

"Will  Morrison,  of  course." 

"  Your  brother  Will?     I  cannot  think  it." 

"  To  be  sure.  I  expected  you  to  say  that,  or  the 
like  o'  that.  Nobody  thinks  Will  can  possibly  do 
wrong,  but  he  can  raise  Cain  in  my  breast." 

"  Hush !  I  will  not  hear  you  make  a  comparison 
like  that.  What  has  Will  done  to  make  you  think 
of  Cain?" 


ioo  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  He's  got  all  the  Morrison  luck — mine  as  well  as 
his  own — and  he  hasn't  a  thought  o'  sharing  it — not 
he,  indeed ! " 

"What  luck  in  particular  has  come  to  Will?" 

"  Would  you  believe  that  he  sails  on  Tuesday  for 
New  York? — on  one  o'  the  big  liners  too." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  He  just  daundered  into  McBrine's,  and  said  he 
wanted  to  engage  for  a  long  voyage,  and  they  told 
him  one  o'  their  third  officers  had  the  diphtheria,  and 
they  would  be  obliged  to  him  if  he  would  take 
the  sick  man's  place  until  he  was  better — obliged  to 
him — that,  and  no  less,  and  of  course  Will  snapped 
at  the  offer,  and  so  he  is  off  to  New  York  on  Tuesday 
next.  And  here  am  I !  I  have  wanted  to  go  to  New 
York  for  many  a  year,  but  nobody  ever  asked  me  to 
go,  paid  me  to  go,  and  told  me  they  would  *  feel 
obligated  to  me  if  I  would  go.'  No  indeed !  " 

"  Roy,  you  could  not  have  taken  Will's  place. 
You  told  me  you  never  finished  your  navigation 
studies,  and  that  you  fairly  hated  them.  You  would 
have  been  a  risk  and  a  danger,  and  far  from  a  help. 
Will  has  been  across  the  Atlantic  often,  and  is  fully 
to  be  trusted." 

"  And  I  am  not  to  be  trusted." 

"  In  your  own  place  you  are  fully  trustworthy,  but 


Lovers  All  101 

an  Atlantic  Liner  is  not  your  place.    So,  be  glad  Will 
has  got  the  pleasure  of  it.'* 

"  I  am  not  glad,  and  I  am  sick  o'  my  own  place.  I 
want  bigger  work — for  your  sake." 

"  We  will  talk  of  that  again,  Roy.  I  like  myself 
to  have  a  peaceful  hour  on  Saturday  night.  Have 
you  seen  the  Balmutos  ?  Marion  was  here  this  morn- 
ing. She  is  a  pretty  little  woman." 

"  And  proud,  and  stuck-up  as  a  peacock  in  full 
feather.  I  watched  her  on  the  boat.  She  kept  close 
to  the  auld  man  with  her — though  there  was  two  or 
three  young  fellows  doing  their  best  to  please  her,  or 
get  her  anything  she  wanted.  She  was  like  a  lump 
of  ice  to  every  word  they  said,  and  I  saw  a  grin  on 
the  auld  man's  face,  that  was  just  the  essence  of  a' 
things  provoking.  I  had  thought  of  presenting  my- 
self to  her,  and  making  a  remark  or  two  about  our 
situation,  but  when  I  saw  the  baby-like  ways  she  put 
on " 

"Baby-like,  Roy!" 

"Yes,  just  that;  shrinking  close  to  the  auld  man's 
side,  with  a  kind  of  feared  look,  as  if  every  young 
man  on  board  was  some  sort  of  a  roaring  lion." 

Annie  laughed  at  the  idea.  "She  would  have  to  fetch 
a  thought  far,  to  think  of  roaring-  lions  and  Glas- 
gow shopmen  at  the  same  moment,"  she  answered. 


IO2  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  The  shopmen  and  trippers  never  looked  at  her. 
It  was  young  Faulds,  and  Alec  Sinclair,  and  that 
private  secretary  fellow  from  the  Castle.  And  she 
treated  them  as  if  they  were  not  there.  So  I  kept  my 
distance  from  her." 

"  You  did  right.  To  have  spoken  would  have 
been  very  vulgar." 

"  Don't  use  such  words  to  me,  Annie.  I  am  all 
of  a  quiver  to-night,  and  I  can  tell  you,  she  does  not 
think  Will  vulgar.  She  took  to  him  at  once,  and  so 
did  the  auld  man,  and  at  this  hour  Will  is  in  their 
parlor,  playing  draughts  with  the  auld " 

"  With  the  Professor." 

"  Well,  then,  Professor  be  it." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  in  this  to  put  you  in  a 
quiver  of  ill-temper,  for  that  is  your  present  condi- 
tion, Roy — a  fit  of  envy  and  ill-temper." 

"  You  must  not  talk  to  me  in  that  way,  Annie.  It 
is  not  your  place,  and  it  is  not  your  duty.  I  came  for 
you  to  comfort  me." 

"Comfort  you  I  Because  your  brother  has  had 
some  good  luck  and  good  favor.  It  is  not  a  case  for 
comfort,  but  for  congratulation.  You  ought  to  be 
glad  and  sweet-tempered  over  it.  If  the  luck  had 
come  to  you,  Will  would  have  been  rejoicing.  When 


Lovers  All  103 

you  told  him  you  had  won  my  promise,  he  gave  you 
good  wishes  and  God's  blessing." 

"  Who  told  you  that  nonsense?  " 

"  Your  aunt  told  my  father,  and  my  father  told 


me." 


"  I  fairly  hate  Will  Morrison,  lately." 

"  Be  quiet,  Roy." 

"  I'll  say  my  say " 

"To  yourself,  then.  I  am  not  stopping  here  to 
listen  to  it;"  and  she  turned  from  him,  went  to  the 
house,  and  slowly  shut  the  door.  She  hoped  he  would 
prevent  this  last  proof  of  her  displeasure,  but  he  did 
not;  indeed  she  heard  the  clashing  of  the  garden  gate 
before  the  house  door  reluctantly  snapped  into  its 
place.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  shut  herself  out,  and 
she  went  to  her  room,  and  wept  sorrowful  tears  for 
the  angry  words  she  had  said.  Finally,  physical  wear- 
iness brought  her  sleep,  but  it  was  sleep  passed  in  a 
weird  masquerade  of  impossible  dreams,  that  gave 
her  neither  enlightenment  nor  expansion,  and  from 
which  she  awakened  with  a  blinding  headache. 

"  You  are  ill,  this  morning,  Annie,"  said  her  father, 
"  and  you  had  better  stay  at  home,  and  keep  quiet." 

She  was  grateful  for  the  permission,  and  towards 
evening  was  so  much  better  that  she  went  down- 


[IO4  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

stairs  to  make  her  father's  tea.  He  was  in  one  of  his 
sweetest  moods — gentle,  affectionate,  and  gravely 
happy.  "  It  has  been  a  blessed  day,  Annie,"  he  said; 
"  outside,  earth  has  been  like  Paradise,  and  inside 
the  Kirk,  everyone  has  been  satisfied." 
"  Then  Mr.  Crieff  is  a  good  preacher?  " 
"  A  good  preacher  by  the  grace  of  God.  His  be- 
liefs are  beyond  dispute,  and  he  is  confident  that  he 
understands  the  Almighty  perfectly,  and  that  atti- 
tude is  satisfactory  to  a  congregation  who  have  been 
well  grounded  and  trained  in  the  system  o'  Christian 
theology.  He  is  young  yet,  and  so  he  had  no  doubts 
of  any  kind,  but  discussed  men's  claim  to  immortal 
life  and  happiness  with  a  power  and  positiveness 
that  must  have  made  all  not  sure  o'  their  election,  fear 
and  tremble." 

"  He  fell  madly  in  love  with  Marion  Balmuto." 
"  I  hope  not — madly.    Men  need  a  double  portion 
o'  sense  when  they  are  in  love — so  do  women — but 
falling  in  love  isn't  a  subject  for  the  Sabbath  Day." 

It  was  out  of  such  materials  that  the  web  of  life  was 
woven  for  the  next  two  months.  Stitches  were 
dropped  and  picked  up,  and  warp  and  woof  got  tan- 
gled, and  were  straightened  again,  and  the  results 
may  be  easily  indicated.  Annie's  affection  for  Roy 
had  increased,  for  it  had  been  tried  in  a  variety  of 


Lovers  All  105 

ways.  At  the  end  of  July  his  Captain  recommended 
him  to  take  a  month's  holiday,  and  a  young  man, 
whom  Mr.  Crieff  advised,  was  put  in  his  place  during 
the  interval.  Roy  affected  both  pride  and  pleasure 
in  this  consideration,  but  Annie  had  some  private  sus- 
picions about  it,  and  the  Deacon,  when  informed  of 
the  circumstance,  refused  all  comment.  For  he  felt 
sure  that  it  was  a  sort  of  dismissal,  and  that  Roy 
would  have  to  look  out  for  some  other  career.  And 
that  might  put  off  the  marriage.  To  put  it  off,  was 
all  Brodick  hoped  for;  he  knew  that  opposition  would 
be  of  no  use,  but  time; — time,  he  told  himself,  might 
do  what  nothing  else  could. 

So  during  the  month  of  August  Roy  was  a  great 
deal  with  Annie  and  consequently  had  many  oppor- 
tunities of  meeting  Marion  Balmuto.  No  friendship 
grew  out  of  these  meetings;  there  was  not  only  a  total 
lack  of  sympathy  between  them,  there  was  actual  dis- 
like; in  Marion's  case,  arising  from  an  instinctive 
knowledge  of  the  man;  and  in  Roy's  case,  from 
wounded  self-esteem,  and  a  hateful  envy  of  Crieff. 
For  he  constantly  told  himself  that  but  for  his  rela- 
tions with  Annie,  and  Marion's  relations  with  Crieff, 
he  might  have  been  the  favored  lover  of  the  well- 
born, wealthy  Miss  Balmuto. 

"  But  I  have  had  bad  luck  in  both  my  business 


106  The   Hands  'of   Compulsion 

and  my  love,"  was  his  usual  soliloquy.  "  I  saw  my 
dismissal  in  Captain's  Young's  face,  when  he  told 
me — '  to  play  myself  for  a  month  ' — and  as  ill  fate 
ordered,  I  had  to  tie  myself  to  Annie,  just  before  I 
met  Marion  Balmuto.  Weel,  I  must  just  make  the 
best  o'  things,  and  surely  if  I  do  lose  my  place,  Annie 
will  get  her  father  to  make  room  for  me  in  his  shop — 
he  ought  to  do  so — it  is  nothing  more  than  his  duty — 
forbye,  he  might  well  be  glad  to  have  a  bright,  hand- 
some young  man  behind  his  old-fashioned  counter.  I 
would  doubtless  bring  him  lots  o'  business." 

Such,  and  such-like,  were  the  thoughts  and  hopes 
in  Roy's  heart,  as  he  sat  with  Annie  in  the  bright,  hot 
August  sunshine.  Generally  he  was  gay  and  enter- 
taining, yet  often  cross  and  contradictious  enough,  to 
try  even  Annie's  patience  beyond  endurance;  for  she 
could  not  help  noticing  that  he  was  his  best  self  when 
Marion  was  present.  In  his  heart  he  disliked  Marion, 
but  he  wished  to  make  her  unhappy;  he  believed  she 
was  really  in  love  with  him,  and  only  accepted  Crieff's 
company  to  hide  her  disappointment  and  chagrin. 
This  attitude  is  a  common  one  among  young  men 
enamoured  of  their  own  appearance,  and  as  a  general 
thing  it  is  as  false  and  unreasonable  as  in  the  pres- 
ent case. 

Annie  knew  there  was  not  an  atom  of  truth  in  Roy's 
hints  and  insinuations,  but  she  was  troubled  at  this 


Lovers   All  107 

temptation  being  in  his  way.  She  wished  Marion 
had  not  come  back  into  her  life.  She  said  to  herself 
— "  Marion  is  a  good  girl,  whiles  she  is  too  good 
for  anything,  and  only  God  knows  how  aggravating 
very  good  people  can  be."  It  grew  constantly  harder 
for  her  to  fight  down  an  unreasonable  dislike,  for  she 
felt  that  everything  in  her  life  had  suffered  a  slight 
change  since  Marion  came  to  her  home  that  day  in 
June,  and  met  Crieff  there..  Her  long,  quiet  morn- 
ings were  broken  up  by  Marion's  pretence  at  sewing, 
and  the  certain  sequence  of  Crieff 's  call  to  convoy 
her  home. 

And  very  often  during  these  broken  mornings, 
some  trifling  look,  or  word,  or  act,  occurred  capable 
of  infusing  the  long,  hot  afternoons  with  anxiety  or 
chagrin. 

For  if  Roy  and  Crieff  met  in  Annie's  home,  Roy 
was  boastful  and  irritating;  Crieff  calm  and  silent; 
and  Marion  exasperatingly  indifferent  to  words  and 
looks  edged  with  wrath  and  disdain.  Her  prattle  of 
heather  and  blue  bells,  her  holy  eyes,  her  innocent 
face,  her  unconscious  air  of  being  in  some  happy 
atmosphere  beyond  the  stir  of  human  passions,  pro- 
voked Annie,  and  made  Roy  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  to  clinch  them.  Indeed  it  was  only  CriefTs 
masterful  control  of  himself — and  incidentally  of 
others — that  prevented  the  strong,  regular  order  of 


io8  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

Brodick's  domestic  life  being  broken  by  some  calam- 
ity, that  no  innocence  could  delay,  nor  self-sacrifice 
avert. 

In  this  situation  it  was  Crieff's  pleasure  to  pass  by 
offences,  to  show  himself  beyond  grieving  in  Love's 
presence,  and  to  carry  his  Marion  from  the  unhappy 
unrest  up  to  some  cool  covert  in  the  hills,  and  sit 
there  with  her,  blissfully  silent,  amid  the  whispering 
of  pines,  and  the  music  of  running  waters.  Such 
hours  had  a  sacramental  efficacy,  and  in  them  he  di- 
vined something  of  that  sixth  sense  by  which  the  in- 
nocent girl  at  his  side  heard  inward  voices  from  the 
reality  of  unseen  things,  and  saw  the  world  as  the 
old  prophets  saw  it. 

Another  change  that  seemed  of  little  importance, 
but  eventually  proved  of  great  importance,  was  the 
rapid  growth  of  a  strong  friendship  between  Brodick 
and  Professor  Balmuto,  and  as  Roy  was  generally 
with  Annie  in  the  evenings,  the  Deacon  went  more 
and  more  frequently  to  Mistress  Lochrigg's  house  to 
spend  two  or  three  hours  with  his  friend.  In  old  age 
men  do  not  frequently  make  new  friendships,  but  this 
was  an  exception.  Brodick's  intelligence,  reasonable- 
ness, and  love  for  religious  discussion,  stimulated  the 
Professor's  wide  knowledge  and  advanced  modern 
thought.  He  delighted  in  dropping  seed  into  such 


Lovers  All  109 

good  ground,  and  the  month  of  August  saw  the  two 
old  men  nearly  always  together. 

Their  companionship  gave  Annie  little  concern. 
Her  father's  absence  made  room  for  Roy,  and  re- 
lieved her  from  that  tension  and  constant  fear  of  dis- 
agreement, almost  unavoidable  when  the  old  man  and 
the  young  man  were  together.  Love  is  selfish,  and 
Annie  regarded  any  event  as  fortunate  if  it  was  fa- 
vorable to  Roy's  happiness,  or  Roy's  future.  So 
Brodick  soon  felt  that  if  he  was  not  wanted  in  his  own 
house,  he  was  very  welcome  in  the.  house  of  Mistress 
Lochrigg,  and  her  cheery  "  good-evening,  Robert," 
and  the  Professor's  beaming  smile,  were  balm  and 
honey  to  his  wounded  heart.  Then  it  was  draughts, 
or  chess,  and  the  long  pipe,  and  wonderful  talk 
anent  things  celestial,  or  things  ecclesiastical,  and 
especially  of  this  daily  life  with  its  bewildering  mys- 
teries, its  griefs  so  certain,  its  needs  so  urgent  and 
near,  and  its  help  and  God  so  vague  and  far  off. 

One  evening  the  Professor  ended  his  remarks  in 
these  hopeless  words,  and  Marion  most  unexpectedly 
answered  them.  She  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  love  and 
joy,  and  her  voice  thrilled  the  inmost  being  of  her 
listeners.  "  God  is  not  far  off,"  she  said.  "  We  are 
in  God.  His  ear  is  close  to  our  lips.  It  is  never 
taken  away.  Even  when  we  sleep  and  dream  we 


no  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

sigh  into  it."  Her  face  was  shining  and  lifted  up,  her 
hands  clasped,  she  filled  the  room  with  a  Presence 

"  that  disturbed  them  with  the  Joy 
Of  elevated  thought,  and  sense  of  Something 
Still  more  deeply  interfused." 

Brodick  bowed  his  head  and  was  profoundly  moved; 
the  Professor  more  actively  so,  for  after  a  few  mo- 
ments' silence  he  said  in  a  voice  full  of  that  Belief 
which  prays  passionately  against  Unbelief — I  trust 
it  so, 

"  For  if  this  pure  solace  should  desert  my  mind, 
What  were  all  else!     I  dare  not  risk  the  loss, 
To  the  old   paths  my   Soul !  " 

The  last  few  words  were  given  in  the  ringing  voice 
of  a  spiritual  soldier,  fighting  for  that  inconceivable 
treasure — the  immortal  Soul — and  after  them  all 
ordinary  speech  was  discord.  Brodick  rose,  put  his 
hand  on  his  friend's  shoulder  and  went  away  without 
a  word;  and  it  was  only  characteristic  of  Scotchmen 
that  they  never  spoke  of  the  circumstance  again.  These 
interruptions  were  not  frequent,  but  yet  they  occurred 
sufficiently  often  to  be  a  distinct  element  in  the  inter- 
course between  Balmuto  and  Brodick. 

Swiftly  the  Summer  days  went  past,  and  early  in 
September  the  city  visitors  began  to  return  to  Glas- 


Lovers  All  in 

gow.  The  Balmutos  were  among  the  first  to  leave,  for 
the  Professor  had  duties  he  was  eager  to  meet.  "  I 
have  had  a  good  rest,  Brodick,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have 
found  you.  Our  opinions  differ,  and  our  ways  are 
apart,  but  we  can  each  say  as  we  go: — 

" '  Whatever    there    is    to   know, 
That  we   shall  know, 
Some  day.'" 

Neither  Marion  nor  Annie  was  sorry  the  season 
was  over.  Marion  had  not  been  attracted  by  Annie's 
friends  and  surroundings,  and  she  had  been  compelled 
to  share  Crieff's  time  with  people  not  congenial  to 
either  of  them.  She  had  been  out  of  sympathy  with 
her  life,  restless  and  uncertain,  but  to  have  Crieff  and 
his  hopes  and  plans  all  to  herself,  had  harmony  in  its 
very  thought. 

More  than  any  one,  Annie  had  been  dissatisfied.  In 
many  ways  she  judged  Marion  and  Crieff  unfortu- 
nate to  her  happiness.  The  peaceful,  regular  routine 
of  her  life  had  been  constantly  invaded;  and  Crieff's 
frequent  presence  had  kept  Roy  many  times  away 
from  her.  Oh,  she  had  so  many  little  grievances  that 
she  felt,  but  did  not  like  to  name,  even  to  her  own 
heart.  She  only  knew  that  the  Summer  had  been  a 
failure.  At  its  beginning  her  marriage  had  been  prob- 


ii2  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

able,  it  was  now  uncertain,  for  Roy  had  lost  his  posi- 
tion on  The  Lady  Mary,  and  had  not  been  successful 
in  finding  anything  he  wished  to  take. 

In  fact,  Roy  had  set  his  heart  on  going  into  the 
Deacon's  business.  From  long,  selfish  musings  on  the 
subject,  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
his  proper  place.  "  People  will  wonder  if  your 
father  does  not  take  me  in,"  he  said  to  Annie.  **  If 
I  am  to  be  his  son-in-law,  it  stands  to  reason,  he 
ought  to  treat  me  like  one  of  the  family.  And  it  is  a 
sort  o'  reflection  on  my  good  name  to  be  put  outside, 
and  forced  to  seek  my  bread  from  strange  folk." 

"  You  are  going  too  fast,  Roy,"  Annie  replied.  "  If 
you  speak  to  father  just  yet,  you  will  get  the  back  o* 
the  hand.  I  am  sure  o'  that." 

"  Then  speak  for  me,  Annie.  You  might  do  that 
much.  It  is  easy  for  you  to  ask  a  kindness  from  your 
father,  but  it  is  gey  hard  for  me  to  seek  favor  from 
folk  that  know  nothing  about  me,  and  so,  don't  even 
treat  me  with  becoming  respect." 

At  length  after  repeated  urgings  Annie  found  a 
favorable  moment  to  say — "  Father,  Roy  has  failed 
again  in  getting  the  place  he  wrote  for." 

"  He  should  have  gone  about  it.  Letters !  Par- 
feet  nonsense !  A  man  ought  to  speak  for  himself." 

"  Is  there  anything  you  can  do  for  him?  " 


Lovers  All  113 

44  He  has  never  asked  me  to  do  anything  for  him." 

44  He  is  afraid  you  would  refuse  him." 

44 1  should." 

44  Then  why  do  you  wish  him  to  ask  you  ?  That 
is  more  unkind  than  you  ought  to  be." 

44  If  he  had  had  the  gumption  to  say  his  own  words, 
I  would  have  thought  it  more  manful  than  sending 
them  by  you — that  is  all." 

44  And  you  would  have  refused  his  request?  " 

44 1  would." 

"Why?" 

44  Because  I  could  not  trust  him." 

44  Oh,  father!  Yet  you  will  trust  him  with  your 
daughter." 

44 1  do  not.  My  daughter  trusts  herself  with  him. 
I  take  no  blame  as  to  what  comes  of  that  trust.  You 
know  well  what  I  think  of  your  marriage  with  Roy 
Morrison — but  there  is  no  use  trying  to  reason  with 
a  girl  in  love.  You  could  as  easy  beat  a  cloud  with 
a  walking  stick." 

44  Poor  Roy  I  Everybody  throws  a  bad  word  at 
him.  They  might  as  well  throw  stones." 

44  His  enemies  are  a  troop  of  his  own  calling.  I 
wish  he  was  a  better  lad,  then  he  would  have  friends 
in  plenty.  Arran  men  stand  together — when  they 


U4  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  father,  but  there  is  set 
before  me  a  different  measure.  I  can  keep  Roy  in 
the  right  way.  I  can  help  him  to  conquer  what  is 
false  and  foolish  in  his  nature.  Even  if  I  loved  him 
less  dearly,  I  would  feel  Roy  to  be  my  task  and  my 
duty." 

"  If  you  talk  of  duty,  I  dare  not  come  between  you 
and  your  duty.  I  have  nothing  to  say.  For,  my  dear 
lass,  a  visible  duty  is  a  direct  order  from  God.  To 
obey,  or  to  disobey  its  call,  is,  in  an  overwhelming 
sense,  to  say  yes,  or  no,  to  God." 

Then  he  went  away,  and  left  Annie  standing  by  his 
chair.  It  made  his  heart  ache  to  do  so,  but  after  her 
claim  he  could  not  interfere.  There  Annie  stood  for 
a  few  minutes,  still  as  a  stone,  gathering  her  soul's 
forces  together.  Her  serene  brow  and  unalterable 
calm  came  not  from  doubt  or  indifference;  she  knew 
what  she  had  to  defend,  and,  alas,  she  knew  also  what 
she  might  be  called  upon  to  abandon  I  But  her  father's 
words  had  thrilled  and  uplifted  her;  obediently  she 
inclined  her  head,  as  she  inclined  her  heart,  and  in 
low  audible  tones  answered: — 

"I  ask  that  Duty  always  speak  to  me;  through 
flood  and  fire  I  will  obey." 


CHAPTER   SIX 

THE  GATE  OF  SORROW 

DURING  the  next  two  months  Roy  was  seeking  em- 
ployment in  a  fitful  kind  of  way,  keeping  always  at 
the  bottom  of  his  expectations  the  belief  that  Brodick 
would  finally  give  him  a  trial ;  and  if  so,  he  told  him- 
self, it  would  not  be  long  "  ere  he  had  firm  grip  of 
the  whole  business."  He  was  a  great  deal  in  Annie's 
company  during  this  time,  he  confided  to  her  all  his 
hopes  and  disappointments,  all  his  likes  and  dislikes; 
he  expected  her  to  be  enthusiastic  over  plans  whose 
futility  she  could  see  at  a  glance,  and  he  came  to  her 
with  angry  complaints  when  his  unreasonable  at- 
tempts ended  in  immense  disillusions.  And  surely  a 
girl  so  wise  and  affectionate  must  during  those  two 
months  have  been  thoroughly  enlightened  as  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  duty  she  had  undertaken. 

So  occupied  was  she  with  this  service  of  love  that 
her  father's  nearly  constant  absence  in  the  evenings 
was  hardly  noticed,  and  when  Roy's  remarks  forced  it 
upon  her  consideration,  she  instantly  read  its  meaning 
in  the  light  of  her  own  wishes  and  p re-occupation. 

"5 


n6  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  He  is  staying  away  to  let  Roy  have  his  chance,"  she 
thought,  "  and  it  is  kind  and  fatherly  of  him.  I'll 
tell  him  so,  when  I  can  get  him  to  talk  of  Roy  again." 

That  the  Deacon  should  leave  the  comforts  of  his 
own  fireside  and  go  to  every  Kirk  meeting,  or  spend 
the  hours  with  Elder  Ruthven,  or  go  to  his  shop  and 
take  stock,  or  look  over  his  ledger,  seemed  to  the  self- 
ishness of  lovers  quite  the  natural  thing  for  him  to  do. 
Sometimes  he  returned  home  dull  and  thoughtful,  and 
ate  his  oat  cake  and  cheese  without  unnecessary 
speech;  but  generally  he  was  cheerful  and  disposed 
to  share  with  Annie  any  news  he  had.  She  was  not 
much  interested  if  he  talked,  and  quite  satisfied  if 
he  kept  silence.  It  was  as  if  in  the  stress  of  her 
watch  over  Roy,  she  had  forgotten  all  the  sweet 
confidences  of  their  past  life  together. 

Brodick  neither  questioned  nor  complained.  He 
saw  that  she  was  going  through  a  conflict,  and  was 
trying  to  conquer  by  faith  and  love  as  soldiers  con- 
quer by  courage.  There  was  a  kind  of  sacredness 
in  this  hope  that  denied  her  own  senses,  a  sad  fatal- 
ity, for  he  could  not  help  believing  she  would  event- 
ually be  beaten  by  some  unforeseen  stress  of  circum- 
stance, or  some  terrible  knowledge  of  things  as  they 
were. 

This  friction  of  wills  and  interests  evoked  condi- 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  117 

tions  influencing  all,  far  beyond  their  knowledge. 
Sarah  Lochrigg  was  the  first  to  speak  of  it.  "  Rob- 
ert," she  said  one  afternoon  when  she  was  in  his 
shop  making  purchases,  "  Robert,  you  be  to  consider 
Annie  a  little.  She  looks  like  a  haunted  woman,  and 
her  eyes  are  wells  o'  anxiety  and  fear.  Roy  is  o'er 
much  for  her — take  my  word  for  it." 

"  She  will  have  to  prove  that  to  herself,  Sarah. 
She  will  take  no  one's  word  for  it." 

"  Will  is  coming  home  to-day.  He  has  had  a  fine 
time  on  the  Liner,  and  he  is  fairly  out  o'  his  senses 
about  America.  You  would  think  the  man  had 
never  seen  Scotland." 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  able  to  keep  the  lads  from 
quarreling.  It  is  a  shameful  thing  for  brothers  to 
do." 

"  Weel,  Robert,  in  time  we  forgive  even  the  peo- 
ple whom  we  have  injured.  If  Roy  will  forget,  Will 
is  not  likely  to  call  up  what  is  past  and  gone.  It  is  a 
pity  you  don't  like  Roy.  You  might  influence  him  a 
deal,  Robert." 

"  Sarah,  no  one  can  force  love.  It  is  there,  or  it 
is  not  there.  And  no  one  can  influence  Roy  against 
his  will.  He  ought  to  go  into  the  world  and  find  his 
level.  He  rates  himself  too  high.  Nobody  wants 
him." 


n8  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

This  conversation  annoyed  Brodick.  He  had  a 
half-realized  fear  about  Will's  return.  The  young 
men  could  not  meet  without  some  result;  what  was 
it  to  be?  On  his  way  home  he  happened  to  see  the 
meeting  of  the  brothers.  Will — the  very  incarna- 
tion of  health  and  prosperity — was  walking  rapidly 
toward  Mrs.  Lochrigg's,  and  Roy  was  directly  in 
his  path.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Will  hailed 
his  brother,  and  as  Roy  came  closer  he  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  greet  him.  Then  side  by  side, 
laughing  and  chatting,  they  went  on  their  way  to- 
gether. 

"  Annie,"  said  the  Deacon  as  he  took  his  place  at 
the  tea  table,  "  I  saw  a  pleasant  sight  as  I  came 
home.  I  saw  Will  Morrison  and  his  brother  meet, 
and  I  am  proud  to  say  there  was  nothing  but  love 
and  good-will  between  them." 

"  I  expected  that,  for  Roy  is  a  kind,  forgiving 
creature,"  she  answered.  "  He  always  said  Will 
would  be  sorry  for  blaming  him  about  that  weary 
boat  name." 

"Did  Will  blame  him?" 

"Maybe  not,  in  so  many  words;  but  he  never 
contradicted  those  who  did  blame  Roy.  Now  Roy 
would  have  dared  anyone  to  put  the  deed  on  his 
brother.  He  would  have  stood  by  Will,  shoulder 


The   Gate   of   Sorrow  119 

to  shoulder.  Poor  Roy  is  too  noble  and  too  gen- 
erous for  this  world !  " 

Brodick  looked  at  his  daughter  in  astonishment, 
but  he  made  no  reply.  Was  there  any  use  answer- 
ing a  love-sick  girl,  either  according  to  her  folly, 
or  against  it?  No,  such  cases  are  beyond  reason- 
able interference.  But  there  is  a  guidance  for  each 
and  all,  and  Brodick  knew  that  by  low  listening  he 
would  hear  the  right  word,  at  the  right  hour.  And 
perhaps  Annie's  unreasonable  love  had  its  own  mes- 
sage, for  in  spite  of  all  our  '  New  Thought '  and 
miraculous  *  Progress '  it  takes  a  soul  to  save  a  soul, 
as  it  did  in  the  days  gone  by. 

For  a  few  weeks  Will  seemed  to  have  a  good 
influence  over  his  brother.  Roy  had  become  shabby 
and  down  at  heels,  and  Will  loaned  him  twenty 
pounds,  and  sent  him  to  Glasgow  to  buy  clothing 
suitable  for  the  season.  "  You  will  lose  both  your 
love  and  your  money,  Will,"  said  Mrs.  Lochrigg. 
"  Roy  was  learning  a  lesson  he  sorely  needed,  why 
did  you  hinder  it?  If  I  had  thought  a  new  suit 
would  help  the  lad,  you  might  have  been  sure  he 
would  have  had  it,  but  I  thought  different." 

"  Yet  perhaps  it  will  help.  I  have  known  a  lot 
o'  strength  and  hope  come  into  a  man's  heart  with  a 
suit  o'  good  tweed  cloth.  And  I  liked  to  put  it  on 


I2O  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

Roy.  He  is  my  brother;  what  he  requires  and  I 
have  is,  in  a  way,  his  right.  I  am  going  to  take  a 
place  in  Creighton's  sail  factory,  and  I  am  trying  to 
get  Roy  to  go  with  me ;  but  he  thinks  it  a  downcome, 
and  he  says  Annie  thinks  the  same,  and  would  be 
fairly  angered  at  him." 

"  What  for  are  you  doing  the  like  o'  that  your- 
self, Will?  I  am  not  sure  you  are  right." 

"  I  think  I  am.  When  I  first  spoke  to  McBrine 
about  a  long  voyage,  I  rented  my  fishing  boat  for  a 
year  to  John  Ballantyne.  He  would  willingly  give 
me  a  place  in  her,  but  when  I  think  of  it,  I  know  that 
would  not  do.  There  would  be  owner  and  master 
both  on  her.  I  would  feel  in  a  wrong  position,  and 
Ballantyne  would  be  still  further  out  o'  the  way. 
Yet  I  cannot  sit  idle,  till  McBrine  has  another 
chance  for  me,  and  Creighton  has  offered  me  two 
pounds  a  week.  I  shall  take  that,  till  better  ways 
and  wages  turn  up." 

"  That  is  good  sense,  and  good  luck  follows  good 
sense.  If  you  could  get  Roy  to  go  with  you " 

"  He  will  not.  I  have  said  all  I  can.  And  he 
declares  Annie  stands  by  him." 

"  I  am  doubting  that.  Annie  BrodicK  isn't  with- 
out sense,  and  she  loves  money.  She  would  take  up 
your  parable,  not  Roy's." 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  121 

"  He  looks  very  handsome  in  his  new  clothes.  He 
is  a  lad  to  be  proud  of,  Aunt." 

"  I  wish  he  had  less  pride,  and  I  think  if  Annie 
does  not  like  him  going  to  Creighton's  she  might 
get  her  father  to  help  him  some  way  or  other." 

"  Roy  feels  that.  He  has  another  scheme  in  his 
head  now,  and  I  am  feared  both  you  and  I  will  have 
to  say  *  No '  to  him.  It  is  utterly  and  beyond 
all  argument,  unfeasible;  a  money  dream,  that  is 
all." 

"A  dream  I     What  is  it?" 

"  He  wants  us  to  supply  the  capital  for  a  ship- 
chandler's  shop  in  Glasgow.  I  am  to  manage  the 
business,  and  Roy  will  keep  the  books,  and  beat  up 
customers.  He  knows  a  few  captains,  and  so  he 
thinks  his  personal  influence  would  do  a  deal." 

Mrs.  Lochrigg  laughed  scorn-fully.  "  I  would 
not  trust  a  bawbee  in  such  a  silly  scheme.  That's 
a  dream,  sure  enough !  "  she  answered. 

"  Yet  he  is  working  like  one  possessed  o'er  the  es- 
timates, the  outlay,  and  profits,  and  such  like.  He 
is  calculating,  as  he  thinks,  to  the  last  halfpenny; 
and  you  would  fairly  wonder  to  see  the  work  he  is 
putting  on  the  papers — the  beautiful  writing,  and 
figuring,  and  rulings  in  red  ink,  and  every  paper 
tied  wi'  pink  or  blue  tape.  He  will  be  showing  them 


122  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

to  you  anon.  Aunt,  you  be  to  speak  him  kindly,  he 
is  so  sure  you  will  help  him." 

"And  you?" 

"  I  have  done  all  that  I  can  to  discourage  him.  I 
have  counted  up  the  price  o'  rents  and  other  out- 
lays, and  his  answer  is  always  a  sort  o'  triumphant 
flourish  o'  the  papers,  and  an  assurance  that  *  all 
the  expenses  are  set  down  and  accounted  for;  and 
the  profits  mair  than  able  for  them.'  What  will  we 
do  wi'  the  lad?  My  heart  aches  for  him." 

"  How  much  money  is  he  wanting?  " 

"  A  thousand  pounds." 

"  A  thousand  pounds !  What  sploring  nonsense ! 
I  would  be  mad  entirely  if  I  listened  to  him." 

"  He  has  the  opinion  that  I  simply  picked  up  siller 
in  New  York;  many  folks  have  that  idea  of  New 
York — and  he  wants  me  to  advance  three  hundred 
pounds.  He  is  counting  on  you  for  three  hundred, 
and  on  the  Deacon  for  four  hundred." 

"  The  born  idiot !  I  cannot  make  mysel'  believe 
in  such  daftness.  Are  you  joking  with  me,  Will?" 

"  It  is  the  naked  truth." 

"  Don't  let  him  come  to  me.  Tell  him  I'll  not 
stand  one  halfpenny  for  such  a  parfectly  crazy  proj- 
ect. And  I  know  Robert  Brodick  will  not  listen  to 
him.  He  will  maybe  give  a  mouthful  o'  good  ad- 


The   Gate  of   Sorrow  123 

vice,  but  that  will  be  the  length  o'  his  help.  What 
about  yoursel',  Will?" 

"  I  cannot  lend  what  I  do  not  possess.  I  am  not 
worth  three  hundred  pounds,  but  even  if  I  had  the 
money,  I  would  not  help  Roy  to  put  himself  in  such 
a  position;  and  I  would  not  be  a  partner  in  it,  for 
all  the  gold  in  Glasgow.  Oh,  I  could  not,  Aunt  I  I 
could  not  do  business  on  other  people's  money." 

This  conversation  is  sufficient  to  explain  Roy's 
position  after  he  had  been  heartened,  and  encour- 
aged by  his  brother's  loan,  and  his  hopes  of  Will's 
further  assistance.  For  some  time  his  scheme — 
however  absurd — made  him  happy.  His  sanguine 
opinions  of  his  personal  merits  made  success  seem 
easy  and  inevitable.  If  Will  led  the  way,  his  aunt 
would  follow,  and  then  Brodick  couldn't,  for  his 
own  sake,  refuse  to  do  his  share.  Why,  every  decent 
person  in  the  Kirk,  and  out  of  it,  would  cry  shame 
on  his  niggard  temper  if  he  did  not  give  his  own 
daughter's  husband-to-be  a  helping  hand.  So  he 
flattered  himself,  for  so  he  believed. 

In  this  dream  he  passed  his  days,  laying  the  most 
elaborate  plans  for  financing  and  managing  the  pro- 
posed enterprise;  never  once  reflecting  that  he  knew 
nothing  practically  of  a  ship's  requirements.  But 
Will's  ready  taking  up  the  trade  of  sail-making, 


124  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

had  set  his  imagination  to  work.  If  Will  knew 
about  sails,  he  must  also  know  about  ropes,  and 
cables,  and  anchors,  and  all  other  necessities.  And 
also,  there  were  catalogues  and  books  without  end, 
prepared  specially  for  buyers  by  those  who  knew 
exactly  what  a  ship-chandler's  shop  should  contain. 

It  was  all  so  plain  and  reasonable  to  Roy,  so  ut- 
terly foolish  to  every  one  else.  And  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  put  his  plans  to  the  test  he  had  to  listen  to 
some  unpleasant  truths.  The  Deacon  told  him 
plainly  "  his  scheme  was  dishonest  in  its  funda- 
mentals, for  that  he  himself  risked  nothing."  Roy 
reminded  him  that  he  risked  his  time  and  his  labor, 
and  after  a  very  scornful,  ill-tempered  discussion,  the 
Deacon  unadvisedly  called  him  "a  fool,"  upon  which 
Roy  in  a  blaze  of  passion  answered: — 

"  I  have  known  many  kinds  of  fools,  Deacon,  and 
there  is  one  very  silly  kind  up  your  own  sleeve,  in 
this  particular  case." 

"  Sir,  I'll  request  you  to  take  yourseP  and  your 
fatuous,  ridiculous,  dishonorable  plans  out  o'  my 
decent  store !  "  retorted  the  Deacon.  He  was  white 
and  stern  with  anger,  to  which  mood  Roy  was  so 
oblivious  that  he  answered  his  demand  with  a  pro- 
voking laugh,  and  a  last  advice  to  the  Deacon  to 
"  take  a  big  share  in  the  *  fatuous,  ridiculous,  dis- 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  '125 

honorable  plan '  lest  he  should  live  to  fret  himself 
o'er  his  stupidity." 

He  went  straight  from  the  Deacon  to  Mrs.  Loch- 
rigg,  for  he  felt  sure  if  he  did  not,  Brodick  would 
hasten  to  prejudice  her  against  him.  She  had  told 
Will  that  if  Roy  came  to  her  with  such  like  fool- 
ishness, she  would  quickly  send  him  to  the  right 
about. 

The  young  man  compelled  her  to  listen  to 
him,  but  it  was  with  a  face  full  of  dissent,  frequent 
ejaculations  of  "  Im-phm!  Im-phm!"  and  a  pecu- 
liar tit-titting  on  her  brow  with  her  finger. 

"  You  see,  Aunt,"  he  argued,  "  a  man  can  do  noth- 
ing in  a  little  place  like  this." 

"  The  place  is  o'er  big  for  you." 

"  In  Glasgow   he  has  a  thousand  chances." 

"  Glasgow  is  the  city  o'  Human  Power.  It 
would  crush  a  man  without  a  bawbee  to  dust  under 
its  feet." 

"  Not  Royden  Morrison.  He  is  not  to  be  crushed. 
If  he  was,  he  wouldn't  be  here,  after  the  fight  he 
has  just  had  wi'  Deacon  Brodick." 

"Im-phm!  Two  hundred  years  ago  some  one 
thought  o'  harnessing  a  flock  o'  geese  for  a  trip  to 
the  moon.  They  could  not  manage  it.  Your  scheme 
is  just  about  as  sensible." 


126  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  I  was  saying  I  had  had  a  fight  wi'  Deacon 
Brodick — the  mean  body  that  he  is!  I'll  not  for- 
get his  damned  unpleasant  manner,  and  his  uncivil 
words." 

"  You  will  forget  how  to  swear  in  my  house,  Roy. 
The  Deacon  is  a  wise  man;  if  he  gave  you  his  ad- 
vice, I  counsel  you  to  take  it." 

"He  is  a  greedy  man,  he  would  not  part  with 
the  smoke  from  his  porridge  if  he  could  help  it.  I 
am  thankful  to  say,  I  gave  him  a  little  o'  my  advice. 
I  told  him  that  he  had  a  daughter,  if  whiles  he 
would  remember  the  fact,  and  that  a  man  who  tries 
to  save  both  his  siller  and  his  soul,  sets  himself  a 
job  beyond  his  management.  Oh,  I  gave  him  as 
good  as  he  sent !  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  and  in  so  doing  you 
proved  yoursel'  a  fool  twice  over." 

"  If  I  had  brought  him  some  careless,  ill-finished 
plan,  he  might  have  swithered,  and  delayed;  but  I 
defy  any  one  in  Glasgow,  or  out  o'  Glasgow,  to  have 
offered  a  better  or  more  correctly  prepared  synopsis 
of  income  and  expenditure.  It  was  in  itsel'  a  clear 
title  to  success." 

"  Roy,  you  are  blinded  by  your  own  proud  imagin- 
ations. And  I  notice  that  you  always  found  it  easy 
to  read  your  title  clear  to  everything  you  wanted.  I 


The   Gate   of   Sorrow  127 

am  feared  your  ideas  would  end  in  something  not 
unlike  thievery." 

"Thievery!  I  scorn  the  word!  It  is  a  matter 
of  business.  Thievery  indeed!  Aunt,  what  do  you 
mean  by  such  a  word?" 

"  God's  sake,  lad,  you  are  surely  demented!  "  and 
she  looked  straight  at  him  with  the  wonderful,  char- 
acter-reading eyes  of  the  Scotch  peasant.  "  It  is  a 
sickening  bit  o'  business.  Go  away,  Roy,  and  get  a 
cast  of  the  world,  and  you'll  find  out  then  what 
miracles  o'  folly  you  were  expecting  from  all  who 
cared  for  you." 

"  Go  away  ?   Well,  what  if  I  do  ?  " 

"Yes,  as  you  say — what  if  you  do?" 

"  There  is  Annie." 

"  As  you  say — there  is  Annie." 

"Well?" 

"  You  and  her  for  it.  Settle  the  matter  between 
you." 

"  I  see.  At  the  last,  and  the  long,  you  refuse  to 
help  me." 

"  Exactly.  Anybody  that  cared  a  bodle  for  you, 
would  refuse.  Before  you  knew  how,  or  wherefore, 
you  would  be  neck  deep  in  debt,  maybe  debt  you 
couldn't  explain  to  suit  the  comprehension  o1  credi- 
tors; and  then  it  would  be  the  bottomless  pit  of  some 


128  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

lawyer's  consulting  room,  and  perhaps  worse  places 
— for  your  friends." 

"  Dagon  you  and  your  money  I  I'm  glad  to  know, 
Aunt,  how  much  of  your  love  I  have." 

"  Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  mouth." 

"  Selfish  folk  ought  to  live  by  themselves." 

"  I  think  so  too.  There  is  going  to  be  an  alter- 
ation in  my  house,  and  that  you'll  see,  and  find  out. 
I  trow,  you  are  an  ungrateful  cad!  I  have  been  a 
mother  to  you  for  twenty-five  years,  but  remember! 
you  can  go  too  far !  yes,  you  can  go  too  far  I  " 

"  Take  care!  Take  care! "  said  Roy's  soul 
within  him,  and  Roy  knew  that  he  was  on  the  verge 
of  "  too  far." 

"  The  parish  has  been  sizing  you  up  lately,  my 
lad,"  Mrs.  Lochrigg  continued,  "  and  I  heard  one 
woman  say  the  other  day,  as  you  passed  her,  '  Poor 
beggar !  everything  goes  wrong  with  him  I '  Is  that 
the  kind  o'  reputation  you  want  ?  " 

"  It's  a  shame,  Aunt !  It  isn't  my  fault.  I  have 
done  all  I  could.  My  luck  is  against  me,  and  you, 
that  have  always  stood  by  me  like  a  mother,  are  now 
ready  to  turn  me  out  o'  house  and  home— though 
you  know  well  I  have  not  a  place,  forbye  your  house, 
in  which  to  lay  my  head." 

The  woman's  heart  was  aching  with  sorrowful 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  129 

love,  as  he  spoke.  She  longed  to  take  him  in  her 
arms,  and  comfort  him,  as  she  had  done  all  his  life. 
She  was  making  excuse  upon  excuse,  even  as  she  sat 
speechless.  And  when  Roy  came  close  to  her,  and 
took  her  hands,  and  laid  his  face  against  hers,  and 
said  "  Kiss  me,  Aunt,  kiss  me,  Mammy!"  she  burst 
into  passionate  weeping,  and  let  him  make  all  the 
excuses  he  wanted. 

Yes,  she  finally  began  to  blame  others.  She 
"  wondered  at  Deacon  Brodick  not  helping  an  hon- 
est lad,  trying  to  do  his  best — he  might  at  least  have 
been  more  considerate — and  Annie  was  not  doing 
what  might  well  be  expectit  o'  her — why  did  she  not 
try,  and  better  try,  till  she  got  round  the  old  man? 
He  was  always  said  to  be  gey  fond  o'  his  daughter, 
why  did  he  not  give  her  a  house  o'  her  own,  and  the 
lad  she  loved?  what  was  siller  for,  but  to  make  hap- 
piness? "  and  so  on. 

The  questions  were  wet  with  tears,  but  they  did 
not  comfort  Roy,  for  instead  of  offering  him  money, 
she  advised  him  to  go  with  his  brother  to  Creighton's 
for  a  few  weeks.  "  Do  that,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
will  write  to  my  Uncle  David  Home,  and  ask  him 
to  find  some  suitable  outgait  for  you,  Roy.  David  is 
a  man  of  some  consideration  in  Edinburgh,  and 
though  we  have  not  been  very  good  friends  for  a 


[130  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

few  years,  he  loves  me,  and  he'll  do  what  I  ask 
him  to  do." 

"  I  would  like  to  go  to  Edinburgh,  Aunt.  I 
would  marry  Annie,  and  carry  her  away  wi'  me  to 
Edinburgh,  and  the  Deacon  should  never  get  sight 
nor  sound  o'  her  again,  if  I  could  help  it.  Oh,  Aunt, 
there  is  none  like  you !  I  love  you  best  of  all  I " 
Then  he  complained  that  he  was  worn  out,  and  felt 
like  to  faint  with  trouble  and  disappointment,  and 
she  rose  in  a  hurry  and  fried  him  a  rasher  and  a 
couple  of  eggs,  and  made  him  a  cup  of  refreshment 
out  of  the  black  tea  pot,  which  Roy,  at  this  hour, 
thankfully  accepted.  And  they  were  closer  and 
dearer  than  they  had  been  for  months — 

"  So  blessings  on  the  falling  out 
That  all  the  more  endears 
When   we   fall   out  with  those   we   love 
And   kiss    again   with   tears." 

After  this  reconciliation  Mrs.  Lochrigg  would 
listen  to  nothing  against  Royden  Morrison.  The 
Deacon  called  that  evening  to  talk  the  matter  over 
with  her,  and  she  treated  the  subject  with  a  sorrow- 
ful sympathy  beyond  his  understanding.  "  Yes," 
she  said,  "  the  poor  lad  showed  me  his  papers,  and 
told  me  his  plans.  I  think  all  they  wanted  was  the 
money  to  carry  them  out.  It  makes  me  down- 


The   Gate   of    Sorrow  131 

hearted  to  see  so  much  good  work  flung  to  the  Back 
o'  Beyond.  I've  no  doubt,"  she  continued,  "  that 
there  are  plenty  o'  good  men  in  Glasgow  that  would 
snap  up  Roy's  business  ideas  if  they  only  knew  o* 
them;  for  the  lad  has  a  wonderful  business  gift,  if  he 
wasn't  so  crampit  for  ready  siller  " — then  seeing  the 
question  in  Brodick's  eyes,  she  forestalled  it  by  a  deep 
sigh,  and  a  "  thousand  pities  and  regrets,  that  all 
her  property  was  tied  fast  by  the  late  Captain  Loch- 
rigg's  o'er  careful  thought  o'  her  welfare ;  and  good- 
ness knows,"  she  added,  "  all  my  own  siller — to  the 
last  sixpence — is  needful  in  this  house,  to  make 
buckle  and  belt  meet.  But  oh  I'm  sorry  for  the  poor 
lad !  He  is  a  good  lad  going  to  the  mischief  for  the 
want  o'  a  friend,  who  could  give  him  steady  work 
and  wage." 

The  Deacon  was  powerless  and  speechless  against 
such  an  attitude,  and  he  went  home  much  earlier 
than  he  intended;  and  she  sent  the  servant  lass  to 
the  door  with  him,  instead  of  seeing  him  o'er  the 
steps  herself,  her  usual  custom.  It  was  a  bitter  ex- 
perience to  Brodick,  and  his  anger  was  not  to  look 
for.  It  spoke  in  the  passionate  flings  of  his  stick, 
and  in  every  stamp  of  his  broad  feet.  He  felt  that 
he  had  been  unjustly  treated,  and  for  a  young  man 
undeserving  of  his  favor,  and  who  had,  in  a  manner, 


132  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

forced  himself  into  his  life.  And  when  he  reached 
home,  Annie,  with  an  ostentatious  air  of  injury,  told 
Roy  he  must  go  away,  and  then  lingered  with  him  at 
the  door,  until  her  father  angrily  bade  her  "  Come 
•out  o'  the  cold  sea  wind,  unless  she  wanted  to  get  the 
pneumonia  and  go  to  her  grave,"  which  alternative 
she  hopelessly  accepted,  as  "  better  than  the  weary 
life  she  had  to  dree." 

It  was  an  altogether  miserable  situation,  and  no 
one  appeared  to  have  the  will  or  the  courage  to  bring 
to  frank  explanation  its  worst  elements,  and  so  con- 
quer, or  at  least  control  them.  So  the  trouble  grew, 
and  grew,  and  at  length  in  one  fateful  hour  passed 
with  Roy  through  the  Brodicks'  open  door,  and  sat 
down  upon  their  hearthstone.  It  was  a  stormy  night 
nearing  the  New  Year.  The  Deacon  had  gone  to 
the  Kirk,  and  Annie  had  given  to  the  ancient  house- 
place  a  cheerful  air  of  cozy  beauty.  The  fire  danced 
and  blazed  on  the  white  hearth,  on  the  ivory-like 
deal  furniture,  on  the  gayly  patched  cushions,  and 
pretty  crockery,  on  the  flowering  plants  in  the 
window,  and  the  colored  pictures  on  the  white 
walls. 

And  there  was  no  picture  in  the  room  fair  as  her- 
self, as  she  stood  listening  to  catch  the  sound  of  her 
lover's  coming.  She  had  dressed  with  care  and  taste, 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  133 

and  seemed  to  be  in  some  enchanting  haze  of  white 
and  color  of  bluebells.  It  was  only  pretty  ribbons 
and  some  woven  lace,  but  it  had  the  touch  and  the 
effect  of  genius  in  its  arrangement.  Outside,  it  was 
snowing  and  blowing,  but  she  knew  Roy  would  not 
fail  her,  and  she  resolved  that  on  this  evening  no 
disagreeable  subject  should  be  named.  They  would 
be  lovers  only,  and  the  world  and  the  care  o'  it, 
should  not  come  into  their  thoughts  at  all. 

As  the  clock  struck  seven  Roy  came  in,  out  of  the 
storm,  laughing  and  shaking  the  frozen  snow  out  of 
his  black  curls.  He  threw  off  his  plaid,  took  Annie 
in  a  loving  embrace,  and  then  snuggled  comfortably 
down  among  the  cushions  of  the  big  chair  she  had 
placed  on  the  hearth  for  him.  A  little  table  was 
spread  with  some  dainties  of  Annie's  own  preparing, 
and  he  ate  heartily,  and  as  he  did  so  told  Annie  the 
particulars  of  a  trip  to  Glasgow  from  which  he  had 
just  returned.  For  nearly  three  hours  the  evening 
was  all  that  Annie  had  hoped  and  expected  it  to  be. 
Then  something  happened.  That  inner  self,  which 
is  so  often  foolish,  and  really  inimical  to  us,  put  a 
thought  too  strong  for  Roy's  resistance  into  his  mind, 
and  with  the  thought  there  came  an  almost  overpow- 
ering impulse  to  carry  it  out. 

Now  this  particular  thought  Ray  had  distinctly 


134  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

resolved  should  be  shared  with  no  one — not  event 
Annie.  In  talking  to  himself — that  is,  to  his  inner 
self — he  had  advanced  sufficient  reasons  for  keeping 
the  circumstances  an  absolute  secret.  Yet  all  through 
the  sweet  converse  of  the  evening,  he  had  felt  the 
urging  of  this  unknown  companion  to  tell  Annie.  It 
had  whispered  continually,  "  Tell  Annie.  Why 
not?"  So  at  last  he  rose,  and  said: 

"  I  must  away  now,  Annie;  it  is  best  to  go  before 
our  happy  evening  gets  a  set-back;  and  your  father 
will  be  home  at  elder's  hours,  and  of  course  have 
something  unpleasant  to  remark."  Then  how  it 
came  about,  no  human  reasoning-  may  explain,  but 
against  desire,  and  without  intention,  .the  words  he 
should  not  have  uttered,  were  spoken: 

"  I  must  tell  you  a  strange  thing  I  have  found  out, 
about  my  brother  Will." 

Annie  lifted  a  face  suddenly  full  of  apprehension, 
and  at  the  same  moment  both  felt  the  chill  that  ac- 
companies ill-omened  words.  Roy  wished  with  all 
his  heart  he  had  been  miles  away,  and  Annie  was 
aware  of  the  oncoming  of  some  trouble  it  was  too 
late  to  avert.  Her  soul  was  strangely  disquieted 
within  her,  and  she  was  seized  with  an  imperative 
desire  to  see,  and  to  know,  whatever  she  had  to  face. 
"What  have  you  found  out,  Roy?"  she  asked,  and 


The  Gate  of   Sorrow  135 

her  voice  was  cold  and  constrained,  as  she  added, 
"  Nothing  wrong.  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"  That  is,  as  you  take  it,  Annie.  I  think  it  is 
wrong  for  a  man  to  be  scheming  and  making  plans 
for  his  own  particular  selfish  interest,  by  the  side  of 
his  kinfolk,  and  as  it  were  at  his  own  fireside." 

"  Speak  plainly.     I  am  not  understanding." 

"Whatever  is  the  matter  with  you,  Annie?" 

"  Tell  me  what  there  is  to  tell,  Roy.  I  am  not 
believing  there  can  be  much  out  of  the  way." 

"  It  is  just  this.  Will  has  been  seeking  a  position 
on  one,  or  any,  of  McBrine's  ships." 

"  That  is  well  known." 

"  It  was  talked  of  when  Will  first  came  home,  but 
I  have  been  made  to  understand  lately  that  he  would 
stay  at  Creighton's  until  something  was  arranged 
that  would  suit  me,  as  well  as  himself." 

"  Did  Will  promise  you  that?     You  never  told 


me  so." 


"  Not  in  so  many  set  words,  but  I  understood, 
plain  as  daylight,  that  that  was  how  affairs  were  to 
be  arranged.  No  doubt,  because  of  this  understand- 
ing, he  was  trying  to  keep  all  his  movements  secret, 
then  when  all  was  ready,  he  would  have  slipped  away 
some  night,  without  a  thought  o'  me.  However,  I 
found  out  what  he  was  after,  and  that  in  a  rather 


136  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

unusual  way — indeed  it  fairly  looked  like  a  Provi- 
dence." 

"What  are  you  beating  around  the  bush  for? 
Speak  plainly,  Roy." 

"  Well  then,  I  went  into  Lucky  Hislop's  and  she 
gave  me  a  letter  that  had  come  by  the  morning's 
mail.  She  thought  it  was  mine,  but  it  was  not  mine, 
it  was  for  Will.  The  doited  auld  wife  is  losing  her 
sight.  She  isn't  fit  to  handle  folk's  letters,  I'm  sure 
of  that." 

"  But  surely,  surely,  you  did  not  open  Will's 
letter!  You  would  never  do  a  thing  like  that!  It 
is  not  to  be  believed." 

"  I  was  not  noticing  the  direction  very  clearly." 

"When  did  you  get  this  letter,  Roy?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  week  or  more,  since !  " 

"My  God!" 

"Well  then,  what's  the  matter  wi*  you?" 

"  You  never  said  a  word  about  it,  before." 

"  And  I  am  sorry  I  said  a  word  the  now.  What 
for  are  you  looking  at  me  in  that  way?  Your  eyes 
are  like  two  pistols." 

"  I  was  wondering — I  was  wondering  " — she 
ceased  speaking,  for  Roy  had  taken  a  letter  from 
his  pocket,  and  was  offering  it  to  her. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said. 


The   Gate  of   Sorrow  137 

"Is  it  Will's  letter?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  Will's  letter.  Read  it,  then  you  will 
see  what  the  sneak  has  been  planning,  never  saying 
a  word  to  me,  or  to  kin  or  friend  either." 

She  drew  back  in  disdain  and  anger.  "  I  would 
not  touch  it,"  she  said,  "  for  all  the  gold  in  Arran. 
Roy,  Roy,  you  have  no  right,  not  the  shadow  of 
right,  with  that  letter.  It  is  downright  theft  to  have 
it  in  your  pocket.  You  are  wronging  your  brother 
shamefully,  every  moment  you  keep  it  from  him. 
Go  to  him  at  once.  Make  what  plea  you  can  for 
the  wicked  deed  you  have  done.  Oh,  Roy!  Oh, 
Roy !  I  cannot  believe  it  I  I  cannot  bear  it !  " 

"  Parfect  nonsense!  What  are  you  crying  about? 
A  poor  wife  you  would  make  for  any  man,  if  he 
could  tell  you  nothing  but  what  everybody  might 
know!  The  letter  came  to  me  in  the  regular  way. 
It  was,  as  I  said  before,  a  kind  o'  Providence,  for  it 
has  let  me  into  Will  Morrison's  secrets." 

* You  are  a  bold  sinner  to  dare  to  lay  such  a 
mean,  contemptible  act  on  Providence.  More  likely 
it  was  some  devil's  work.  Anyhow,  I  will  not  listen 
to  your  charging  Providence  with  your  own  low, 
slinking  sin.  I  will  not." 

"  '  Will '  and  *  will  not '  are  for  men  to  say,  such 
words  are  not  for  women  folk.  Keep  that  in  your 


138  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

mind,  if  you  can.  I  tell  you,  I  will  read  any  letter 
I  like  to  read.  How  was  I  to  know,  when  Lucky 
Hislop  put  the  paper  in  my  hand,  that  it  was  not 
mine?  " 

"  I  suppose  Will  Morrison's  name  was  on  the 
outside  of  it." 

"  Yes,  it  was.  '  Mr.  William  Morrison  '  was 
sprawling  from  one  side  to  the  other.  But  what  of 
that?  I  wasn't  taking  particular  notice  of  the  out- 
side o*  the  letter.  I  saw  '  Morrison  '  plain  enough 
outside,  but  it  was  the  inside  I  was  interested  in. 
Anybody  might  have  done  the  very  same  thing." 

"  Say  that  much.  Yet  after  you  had  read  a  line 
or  two,  you  must  have  known  that  it  was  not  your 
letter.  Then,  no  doubt,  you  looked  well  at^the  out- 
side of  it." 

"  Say  that  much,  and  what  do  you  make  o'  that?  " 

"  I  make  this — that  you  knew,  mostly  at  once, 
that  you  held  in  your  hand  what  was  not  yours,  in 
any  sense.  Then  you  ought  to  have  gone  straight- 
way to  your  brother  and  said,  '  Will,  I  opened  this 
letter  by  mistake,  but  I  have  read  no  more  of  it 
than  let  me  know  it  did  not  belong  to  me.  I  hope 
you  will  excuse  me,  and  poor  Lucky  Hislop  as 
well.' " 

"  Such  stupendous  folly !    I  would  just  like  to  see 


The   Gate  of   Sorrow  139 

Royden  Morrison  making  a  talk,  and  a  wonderment 
o'  himself,  for  a  screed  o'  paper." 

"  It  comes  to  this — you  can  give  up  the  letter 
or  you  can  give  up  Annie  Brodick.  I  will  not  put 
my  hand  in  your  hand  again  until  you  have  made 
it  clean  to  your  brother  Will." 

"  You  are  caring  a  deal  for  my  brother  Will.  I 
am  thinking  he  ought  to  be  in  my  place.  Give  him 
the  letter  yourself.  There  it  is  1  "  and  he  flung  it 
on  the  table  with  great  passion. 

"  I  will  not  black  my  hand  with  it — and  you  will 
make  your  own  excuses,  and  seek  your  own  dis- 
charge from  the  shame  and  the  blame  of  such  a  dirty 
bit  of  business.  I  am  not  sure  but  what  keeping  a 
letter,  not  your  own,  is  an  actionable  offence;  it 
ought  to  be,  I  know  that." 

"  And  so  you  are  going  to  fling  me  over  for  Will's 
letter !  I  have  been  long  thinking  you  were  not  car- 
ing for  me." 

"  You  know  you  are  lying  now.  I  have  told  you 
this  night  that  I  love  you  better  than  all  the  world, 
and  you  know  well  that  I  would  not  say  them  words 
unless  they  came  warm  from  my  heart.  But  it  is 
the  man  I  thought  you,  that  I  love.  I  could  not  love 
— I  would  not  dare  to  love,  a  lad  that  would  open 
and  read  a  letter  that  was  not  his — ay,  and  then  keep 


140  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

it  for  a  whole  seven  days  afterwards.  So,  Roy,  lis- 
ten to  me.  You  must  go  straight  to  your  brother, 
this  very  minute,  late  as  it  is,  and  give  him  what  be- 
longs to  him,  with  all  proper  regret  for  your  un- 
worthy conduct.  If  you  don't  do  this,  and  all  of  it, 
you  may  count  every  word  between  you  and  me  un- 
said, and  unredeemable." 

"You  are  not  in  earnest,  surely,  Annie?" 
"  As  sure  as  death,  I  am  in  earnest." 
"  Well,  I  cannot  give  you  up.    I  would  far  rather 
make  a  born  idiot  o'  myself.    So,  I  will  go  to  Will, 
and  do  what  you  bid  me.    You  are  an  unfeeling  lass 
to  put  the  lad  who  loves  you  through  such  a  humili- 
ation.    But  I'll  go  to  Will.     I  know  he  will  just 
laugh  at  the  whole  circumstance.    He'll  laugh  at  me 
too,  but  it  is  little  you  care  for  that." 

"  Oh,  Roy!  I  want  you  to  do  right.  I  want  you 
to  do  right." 

"  I  have  said  I  would  do  what  you  told  me  to  do." 
Then  he  passionately  kicked  a  chair  out  of  his  way, 
and  lifting  his  cap  and  plaid,  left  the  house  without 
a  word  to  the  woman  who  stood  so  white  and  sor- 
rowful, watching  his  furious  departure. 


CHAPTER   SEVEN 

ROY  ACCUSES    HIMSELF 

As  a  bird  flies  to  its  nest  at  the  sudden  breaking  of 
the  storm,  so  Annie  flew  to  her  room,  when  she 
heard  the  clash  of  the  garden  gate.  She  forgot  the 
unlocked  door,  the  blazing  fire,  the  burning  candle, 
and  when  the  Deacon  returned  ten  minutes  later, 
he  was  momentarily  shocked  by  such  extravagant 
carelessness.  With  some  temper  he  covered  the  fire, 
and  locked  the  door,  then  lifting  the  swaling,  flutter- 
ing candle,  he  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and 
called  "Annie!"  in  no  undecided  tones.  She  did 
not  answer  instantly,  for  her  mind  was  so  over- 
whelmed in  its  own  grief  that  her  father's  voice 
seemed  far  off  and  irrelative.  He  called  again,  and 
still  she  could  not  quite  compel  the  necessary  atten- 
tion. Then  she  heard  his  step  upon  the  stair,  and 
she  went  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key. 

"  Are  you  within,  Annie  ?  " 

"Yes,  father." 

"What  for  did  you  go  to  bed  and  leave  the 
door  undone,  and  fire  and  candle  wasting?  I  am 
fairly  astonished  at  your  carelessness.'* 

141 


142  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"I  was 'suffering  very  much,  father." 

"  But  you  might  have  called  up  the  lass  if  you 
were  not  able  to  put  things  as  they  ought  to  be." 

"  Father,  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  reach  my  room." 

"Can  I  get  you  anything?" 

"  I  have  all  I  want,  father.  I  know  well  what  to 
do  when  I  am  in  trouble  of  any  kind." 

"  Weel,  if  you  get  no  better,  call  me,  and  I'll 
go  for  the  medical  man;  though  Doctor  McFarlane 
is  fearsome  angry  if  he  is  called  at  night — and 
charging  for  it,  too." 

"  I'm  not  requiring  McFarlane.  I'll  do  better 
wanting  him.  Just  leave  me  to  myself,  father.  I'll 
be  fit  enough  by  morning." 

"  God  help  and  bless  you,  Annie !  " 

He  went  away  with  the  blessing  on  his  lips,  and 
then  returned  to  the  house-place,  and  began  to  look 
around  for  his  usual  bread  and  cheese  and  glass  of 
milk.  Annie  had  forgotten  them.  "  It  is  easy  to 
say  who  has  been  here,"  he  muttered.  "  Only  Roy 
Morrison  could  make  her  forget  me,  and  it  is  most 
humiliating  to  be  put  o'  mind  for  the  like  o'  that 
ne'er-do-well.  And  if  I  am  any  judge  o'  women- 
folk, there  has  been  a  quarrel  between  him  and 
Annie — and  the  poor  lass  is  heart  and  soul  sick. 
That  is  the  way  o'  this  business.  I  am  seeing  it 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  143 

all  clearly,  ay,  and  feeling  it  likewise — a  month  or 
two  on  tlie  treadmill  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the 
lazy,  lying  scoundrel.  God  forgive  me!  I'm  mak- 
ing myself  jury  and  judge  baith.  Keep  your  castle, 
Robert  Brodick!  There's  an  enemy  at  your  gates." 

These  sentiments,  mingled  with  verses  of  warn- 
ing and  encouragement,  disciplined  the  angry  father 
until  he  fell  asleep  under  their  influence,  and  his 
soul  went  to  that  lowest  chamber  of  being  in  which 
there  is  always  a  romance  and  a  mystery — the  won- 
derful mystery  of  dreams — the  unfolding  and  the 
enlightenment  of  which  cannot  come  in  any  other 
way,  because  for  it,  words — however  wise — would 
be  impotent  things. 

So  the  man  slept,  while  his  nobler  part  was  in  the 
School  of  Dreams,  and  the  woman  sat  tearless  and 
dumb  with  hands  clasped  upon  her  knees.  There 
was  no  thought  of  sleep  in  Annie's  eyes,  they  were 
fixed  and  wide  open,  and  without  the  shadow  of 
tears.  She  was  not  a  girl  ready  to  weep.  She  hardly 
remembered  any  occasion  when  she  had  done  so. 
A  kind  of  Spartan  self-control  had  been  the  law  of 
her  childhood,  and  even  at  this  bitter  hour  she  sought 
not  the  relief  of  tears.  Neither  did  the  oppression 
on  her  heart  drive  her  into  restlessness  and  move- 
ment; she  could  not,  as  many  do,  walk  with  sorrow 


144  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

until  the  weary  body  compelled  surcease  in  sleep.  On 
the  contrary,  she  sat  motionless  in  the  light  of  the 
waning  moon,  while  all  the  waves  and  the  billows 
of  Grief's  illimitable  sea  went  over  her.  She  was 
dumb,  and  made  neither  prayer  nor  complaint,  for 
she  was  stupefied  by  the  sudden,  unequivocal  revela- 
tion of  her  lover's  utter  lack  of  moral  sensibility. 
Roy  had  committed  a  crime,  and  was  indifferent  to 
the  turpitude  of  the  act;  and  to  Annie,  this  spiritual 
apathy  was  an  abdication  of  his  spiritual  inheritance. 

If  he  had  expressed  any  regret,  however  feeble, 
she  could  have  hoped  and  endeavored,  but  at  this 
hour  there  was  no  hope,  no  endeavor,  no  extenua- 
tion possible.  Therefore,  her  distress  was  stifled, 
dark,  void,  and  unimpassioned,  and  found  no  natural 
outlet  in  prayers,  or  tears,  or  in  future  probabilities. 
All  earth  was  black,  and  all  heaven  blind;  she  had 
wilfully  chosen  a  lover  without  virtue,  honor,  or 
rectitude,  and  so,  she  feared,  forfeited  all  claim  upon 
spiritual  help  or  interference.  For  as  yet  she  had 
not  found  out  that  God  is  the  only  refuge  for  women 
who  have  loved  unworthily,  and  that  He  waits  in 
eternal  patience  their  hour  of  need. 

So  she  was  desperately  miserable.  She  could  only 
suffer.  She  had  indeed  satisfied  her  conscience,  but 
her  heart  was  cold  and  comfortless.  She  had  done 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  145 

her  duty,  but  love  was  sorely  wounded,  even  unto 
death.  Nature,  too,  seemed  hostile;  the  snow  had 
ceased,  but  the  night  was  bitterly  cold,  and  agitated 
by  a  ghostly  wind.  Nevertheless,  joyful  or  sorrow- 
ful, the  hours  go  by,  and  at  last  the  dawning  made 
its  noiseless  entrance.  Then,  the  cold  grey  light, 
the  angry  clouds  covering  the  sky,  and  leaving  no 
door  open  into  heaven;  the  weight  of  the  slow, 
steady,  monotonous  rain  was  the  very  atmosphere 
of  her  silent,  hopeless  sorrow.  For  she  had  resolved 
to  say  nothing  to  her  father  until  she  knew  whether 
or  not  Roy  had  made  his  confession,  and  Will  ac- 
cepted it. 

The  Deacon  was  equally  reticent.  He  felt  quite 
sure  that  Roy  Morrison  was  the  "  because  "  of  his 
daughter's  miserable  appearance,  but  when  Annie 
said  "  she  had  the  worst  headache  she  ever  had  in 
her  life,"  he  accepted  her  reason  without  question. 
Indeed  the  girl's  physical  anguish  was  so  apparent, 
it  called  for  the  most  loving  sympathy,  without  any 
"  why  "  or  "  wherefore,"  and  Brodick's  heart  was  as 
tender  as  it  was  strong.  Annie  knew  this,  and  when 
he  drew  her  aching  head  against  his  breast  with  lov- 
ing offers  of  help,  his  unmistakable  affection  almost 
opened  the  Gate  of  Tears  for  her.  One  moment's 
abandonment,  and  she  would  have  confessed  to  the 


1146  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

fatherly  heart  on  which  she  leaned,  the  uttermost  of 
her  sorrow. 

But  this  confidence  was  what  she  feared  to  make 
just  yet.  She  must  know  the  best,  and  the  worst  of 
the  affair  first.  She  must,  if  it  was  possible,  seek 
out  some  way  of  forgiveness  which  would  satisfy  her 
conscience.  But  if  her  father  knew  the  facts,  as 
they  were  at  present,  he  would  listen  to  no  excuse; 
he  would  say,  "  The  man  has  confessed  his  guilt,  he 
has  even  gloried  in  it,  what  more  is  necessary?" 
And  disliking  Roy,  as  he  did,  he  would  be  a  hard 
judge,  yes,  a  very  hard  judge.  So  she  resolved  for 
the  next  three  days  to  conceal  her  anxiety,  to  assume 
her  usual  interest  in  daily  life,  and  even  pay  extra 
attention  to  her  father's  comfort  and  conversation. 
For  she  told  herself,  she  must  give  Roy  three  days, 
since  Will  might  not  be  at  home,  or  if  so,  not  be 
able  at  once  to  look  over  the  injury  done  him. 

But  this  was  only  respite  of  grief,  its  cure  could 
not  grow  in  such  a  bounded  field;  and  in  the  inter- 
vals of  her  father's  absence,  and  in  the  long,  woe- 
some hours  of  the  nights,  the  restrained  suffering 
flowed .  back  upon  her  heart  with  overwhelming 
power,  and  presentiment  of  evil.  Two  alternate 
fears  tormented  her;  first,  that  Roy  had  not  kept 
his  promise  to  give  Will  the  letter  which  belonged 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  147 

to  him.  She  had  told  him  to  go  that  very  hour  to 
his  brother  and  ask  his  forgiveness,  and  she  believed 
if  Roy  had  done  this,  he  would  have  come  to  her  the 
next  evening  to  receive  the  praise  he  would  consider 
due  him  for  his  self-denying  humiliation.  But  three 
days  passed,  and  Roy  made  no  sign.  Then  she  had 
to  face  a  certain  necessity.  She  must  either  send  for 
Will  Morrison,  and  herself  tell  him  of  the  wrong 
done,  or  she  must  trust  her  father  with  the  mes- 
sage. For  by  the  end  of  the  second  day  it  had  be- 
come a  crying  urgency  to  reveal  the  matter — her 
conscience  already  accused  her  of  a  delay  she  would 
not  have  granted  to  any  other  person,  with  the  same 
stress  of  restitution  urging  confession. 

On  the  second  day,  the  second  doubt  intruded  on 
the  first.  This  was  a  fear  that  Roy,  having  given  his 
brother  the  letter  belonging  to  him,  had  met  with 
something  less  than  Will's  habitual  generosity,  and 
that  either,  because  he  had  some  dread  of  conse- 
quences, or  was  deeply  mortified  at  the  shameful 
acknowledgment  he  had  been  forced  to  make,  the 
offended  man  had  set  down  against  her  the  disgrace 
of  his  own  act.  For  Annie  knew  well  that  such  a 
result  would  not  only  be  possible,  but  actually  natural 
to  a  moral  intelligence  as  perverted  and  ineffectual 
as  that  of  her  lover. 


148  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

On  the  third  morning  the  Deacon  had  an  un- 
expected call  to  Loch  Ranza,  and  Annie  seeing  his 
hurry  and  preoccupation,  could  not  wisely  open  a 
subject  so  important.  Perhaps  she  was  relieved  by 
this  favorable  respite,  for  Roy  would  certainly  hear 
of  the  Deacon's  absence,  and  so  avail  himself  of  the 
opportunity — but  if  not,  then  she  would  give  up 
hoping,  and  nothing  should  prevent  her  sending  her 
father  to  Will,  immediately  on  his  return  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Her  dying  trust  seized  eagerly  this  last, 
frail  hope,  for  she  had  suffered  much  from  that  cold 
temptation  which  comes  to  the  noblest  hearts,  when 
virtue  has  failed  to  reward,  and  they  are  half-in- 
clined to  regret  having  served  her — when  they  say 
with  the  great  seer-singer,  "  In  vain  have  I  washed 
my  hands  in  innocency." 

In  the  afternoon  she  walked  down  to  her  father's 
shop,  after  assuring  herself  that  the  things  she  went 
for  were  really  needed,  and  that  she  had  not  in- 
vented their  requirement;  yet  she  was  consciously 
aware  that  she  might  meet  Roy  in  this  way  of  duty 
and  requirement.  She  did  not  meet  him,  but  she  saw 
him  with  his  brother  Will;  they  were  coming  from 
Creighton's  together,  and  they  appeared  to  be  on 
their  usual  affectionate  terms.  Then  she  returned 
home,  and  her  heart  was  comparatively  light.  Roy 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  149 

had  confessed,  and  evidently  been  forgiven,  and 
sooner  or  later  he  would  return  to  her.  Uncon- 
sciously, she  could  not,  even  yet,  face  life  without 
him. 

About  seven  in  the  evening  she  was  sitting  alone, 
considering  what  step  would  now  be  the  right  one 
to  take.  If  Roy  had  told  his  brother,  and  they  were 
friends,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  reason  to 
trouble  the  Deacon  with  the  matter.  It  would  be 
kind  and  prudent  to  let  it  rest.  Such  silence  could 
hurt  no  one,  on  the  contrary,  discussion  would  cause 
ill-temper  and  much  evil  speaking,  lying  and  slan- 
dering. This  was  Annie's  honest  decision,  and  it 
was  grateful  to  her.  For  she  longed  to  bury  the 
fault,  to  forgive  and  to  forget  it,  and  take  back 
Roy  to  her  tender  mercy  and  her  loving  kindness. 

Softened  by  such  thoughts,  she  sat  silent  by  the 
fireside.  She  was  neither  watching  nor  expecting, 
for  as  Roy  had  not  come  at  once  for  her  approval, 
she  judged  he  would  not  come  for  at  least  a  month, 
unless  the  holiday  call  should  bring  him  to  make  all 
clear  and  happy  for  the  New  Year.  So  far  she  had 
gone  in  anticipation,  when  Roy  stepped  softly  into 
the  room.  He  saw  the  swift  change  in  Annie's  face, 
the  splendid  wave  of  color  that  came  like  sunlight 
over  her  pale  cheeks,  the  smile  that  transformed 


150  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

her  as  the  sea  is  transformed  by  the  dayspring,  and 
he  knew  that  this  added  splendor  of  beauty  had  been 
called  forth  by  his  presence. 

"Weel,  Annie!  "he  said. 

"My  dear  Roy!" 

"  Will  you  give  your  dear  Roy  a  welcome  to- 
night? You  sent  him  away  in  a  fine  blaze  o'  temper.'* 

Her  soul  was  instantly  on  guard.  The  beating 
of  her  heart  was  almost  audible,  but  she  was  not  to 
be  betrayed  by  its  entreaties.  Yet  Roy  saw  in  her 
outstretched  hands,  her  eager  looks,  her  tender  eyes, 
the  great  affection  with  which  he  had  inspired  her, 
as  she  answered: — 

"  You  are  dearly  welcome,  welcome  as  life  to  me, 
for  I  know  you  would  not  be  here,  if  you  had  not 
put  the  wrong  right-  and  come  to  tell  me  so." 

"  Of  course." 

"What  did  Will  say?" 

"  He  just  made  a  laugh  o'  the  whole  business.  I 
told  you  he  would.  He  said  I  wasn't  to  speak  o' 
the  matter.  He  does  not  want  his  plans  made  free 
to  all  and  sundry,  and  I  told  him  I  hadn't  named 
the  subject  to  a  creature  but  you." 

"Well  then?" 

"  He  said  that  words  were  as  safe  with  you  as 
if  they  were  stones  dropped  in  the  deep  sea." 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  151: 

"  And,  Roy,  Roy,  my  dear  lad,  you  are  far  happier 
for  telling  Will?" 

"Of  course  I  am  happier,  because  it  puts  you 
and  me  right.  The  letter  did  not  trouble  me,  but 
I  could  not  thole  your  feeling  about  it." 

Then  she  went  to  him,  and  lifted  the  cap  from  his 
head,  and  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  their  recon- 
ciliation was  complete. 

"  We  will  never  name  the  unlucky  bit  o*  paper 
again,"  he  said,  and  Annie  was  willing  it  should 
pass  into  oblivion.  A  sweet  content  followed  her 
anxiety,  and  she  told  herself  again  that  her  influence 
for  good  on  Roy's  character  was  now  proved  and 
certain.  An  exceedingly  happy  evening  followed. 
Never  had  Roy  been  so  loving  and  so  charming,  and 
never  had  Annie  been  so  beautiful  and  affectionate. 
For  three  hours  they  sat  looking  into  the  future  to- 
gether, seeing  nothing  there  but  lifelong  happiness, 
and  love  everlasting. 

In  the  midst  of  such  happy  thoughts  sleep  found 
Annie,  but  where  sleep  took  her,  and  to  what  stern 
revealer,  none  may  say.  She  opened  her  eyes  at 
the  dawn  with  a  sigh,  and  was  immediately  con- 
scious of  a  strange  depression.  "  It  is  the  bad 
weather,"  she  thought  as  she  went  to  her  window 
and  saw  the  heavens  and  the  earth  full  of  a  brood- 


152  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

ing  storm.  The  dull  sky  darkened  down  to  the  edges 
of  a  black  sea,  and  the  grey-sailed  ships  looked  in 
the  thick  mist  like  gigantic  phantoms  in  winding 
sheets.  She  turned  shivering  from  the  outlook,  and 
dressed  quickly  and  without  interest  in  her  appear- 
ance. Bodings  of  evil,  unsanctioned  by  her  will, 
and  having  no  root  in  apparent  circumstances, 
seemed  to  whisper  her,  she  knew  not  what,  of  com- 
ing evil.  She  was  anxious  without  reason,  restless, 
indifferent  to  her  duties,  actually  cross  to  the  good- 
natured  servant  girl,  who  tried  to  understand  and 
please  her. 

She  was  quite  aware  of  her  fault,  and  for  a  time 
took  a  perverse  kind  of  pleasure  in  letting  temper 
have  its  way  with  her,  whatever  she  was  doing.  But 
when  feelings  come  from  unsuspected  causes,  the 
defendant  is  at  a  disadvantage,  and  doubtless  Annie's 
inexplicable  moods  were  the  outcome  of  painful,  un- 
remembered  dreams,  which  sleep  after  sinking  her 
far  below  its  ordinary  tide,  had  given  her  during 
the  past  night,  since 

"  From   the   soul's   subterranean   depth  upborne, 
As  from  an  infinitely  distant  land, 

Come  airs  and  floating  echoes,  and  convey 
A  melancholy  into  all  our  day." 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD.' 

About  noon  she  endeavored  to  put  down  the  climb- 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  153 

ing  fears  of  unreasonable  anxiety.  "I  am  a  selfish 
girl,"  she  thought,  "  letting  I  don't  know  what  ruin 
the  whole  day.  I  wish  father  would  win  home.  And 
I  pray  God  the  storm  does  not  catch  him  among  the 
mountains." 

This  thought  released  her  from  personal  interests, 
she  began  to  think  of  others,  and  was  instantly  more 
cheerful.  It  was  a  cruelly  cold  afternoon;  the  wind 
cried  drearily,  and  the  black  winter  sea  made  a 
solemn  roaring  on  the  foggy  beach.  So  she  built  up 
the  fire,  and  kept  the  kettle  boiling,  and  filled  the 
room  with  the  glowing  warmth  and  light  of  the 
blazing  coals. 

She  expected  her  father  about  two  o'clock,  but 
it  was  quite  three  when  she  saw  him  coming  very 
slowly  up  the  hill.  Timothy  Buchan  walked  at 
his  side,  and  Annie  noticed — even  before  they 
reached  the  house — the  anger  in  her  father's  face 
and  manner,  and  the  air  of  solicitude  with  which 
Buchan  regarded  him.  At  the  gate  Brodick  put  a 
crown  into  Buchan's  hand,  and  said,  "  Thank  you, 
Tim.  You  did  me  a  good  turn.  I'll  not  be  forget- 
ting it." 

"I  am  owing  you  many  god  turns,  Deacon.  I'm 
not  forgetting  them." 

During  this  pause  Annie  stood  looking  at  her 


154  Tfie   Hands  of   Compulsion 

father  with  distress  and  astonishment.  His  massive 
form  was  radiating  wrath,  and  the  stormy  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  the  suppressed  passion  in  his  close-drawn 
lips  and  lowering  brow,  frightened  her.  He  was  also 
deathly  pale,  and  there  was  a  streak  of  blood  down 
the  white  linen  of  his  shirt  front.  At  the  house  door 
he  looked  at  her  with  a  passionate  pity,  and  passed 
through  it  without  a  word.  She  turned  in  after  him, 
her  heart  sinking  and  sick,  and  looked  into  his  face 
with  a  silence  full  of  inquiry.  But  as  it  brought 
her  no  answer,  she  asked,  "  Have  I  done  anything  to 
anger  you,  father?  Why  don't  you  speak  to  me?" 

"  Sit  down,  Annie,  I  have  bad  news  for  you.  I 
am  not  angry  at  you,  in  particular,  but  I  am  sorely 
angry  at  you  in  the  general.  For  you  have  brought 
this  sorrow  on  yoursel',  by  your  ain  free  choice  and 
will,  and  against  the  choice  and  will  o'  a  father  that 
was  wiser  than  you,  and  who  loved  you  with  a  love 
that  had  no  selfishness  in  it." 

"  I  am  understanding  well  enough  that  all  these 
words  mean  something  against  poor  Roy.  Folks  will 
not  let  the  lad  alone." 

"Roy  should  let  alone  what  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with.  Let  me  tell  you,  there  is  more  trouble  in  the 
village  than  words  can  sort.  I  have  had  to  put  my 
ain  body  between  Will  and  Roy  Morrison,  or  Will 


Roy  Accuses    Himself  155 

would  have  thrashed  his  brother  soundly — and  weel 
he  deserves  it." 

Annie  did  not  utter  a  word.  Her  eyes  were 
dropped;  she  seated  herself  in  a  chair  beside  the  table, 
and  her  father  noticed  that  she  grasped  the  edge  for 
further  support.  He  watched  her  for  a  moment  and 
then  continued — 

"  What  do  you  think,  Annie,  o'  a  man  who  opens 
a  letter,  not  his,  and  then  keeps  it  all  o'  ten  days, 
without  saying  word  or  witten  about  it?" 

"  Who  has  done  the  like  o'  that?  " 

"  Roy  Morrison  has  done  it." 

"  How  do  folks  know  the  truth  o'  such  a  charge  ? 
Is  there  not  some  mistake?  Oh,  father — father!" 

"  There  is  no  mistake,  Annie.  Lucky  Hislop 
gave  it  to  Roy.  It  was  from  the  McBrines  o*  Glas- 
gow, it  was  closed  with  their  big  seal,  that  has  a  ship 
in  full  sail  on  it.  Lucky  saw  the  name  Morrison  on 
the  letter,  and  Roy  happened  in  on  the  minute,  and 
she  asked  if  it  was  for  him,  and  he  said,  *  Thank  you, 
Lucky,  it  is  all  right,'  and  so  went  awa'  with  it.  And 
it  was  all  wrong,  for  the  letter  was  Will's  letter,  and 
Roy  must  have  known  that  as  soon  as  he  opened  it 
— if  not  before." 

"Well,  then?" 

"No,  it  is  not  well,  it  is  bad  as  can  be.     Will 


156  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

has  lost  the  position  he  was  seeking — and  it  is  a 
big  loss— one  that  may  cripple  the  lad's  whole 
life." 

"  How  did  Will  find  all  this  out?  " 

For  a  moment  the  Deacon  did  not  answer.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  on  his  child.  Her  face  was  white  as 
death,  and  the  few  words  which  framed  her  ques- 
tion were  shivered  from  between  her  lips,  rather  than 
spoken.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  trembling  one, 
which  had  fallen  from  its  grasp  of  the  table,  and 
asked — 

"Annie,  my  dear  lass,  do  you  want  me  to  stop  tell- 
ing you?" 

"  No !  No ! "  she  cried  with  a  sudden  agonizing 
sob—"  tell  me  the  last,  and  the  worst  o'  it." 

*'  It  was  this  way,  then.  This  morning  Will  got  a 
letter  from  the  McBrines  saying,  '  that  as  he  had  not 
accepted  their  proposal,  they  concluded  it  was  not 
satisfactory,  and  had  made  other  arrangements'; 
they  spoke  of  waiting  eight  days  for  his  reply,  and 
regretted  *  he  had  not  thought  it  worth  his  while  to 
say,  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  to  their  offer.'  And  nothing  will 
put  that  bit  o'  neglect  right.  It  shuts  McBrine's 
door  in  Will's  face  forever.  I'll  stop,  if  you  want 
me  to,  Annie." 

"  Go  on — go  on." 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  157 

"  As  soon  as  Will  read  this  letter  he  went  in  a  pas- 
sion to  poor  Lucky,  and  she  cried,  and  told  him  she 
had  given  that  very  letter  to  his  brother  Roy  ten  days 
syne,  and  '  Surely,  man,'  she  cried,  *  it  was  safe  in 
your  ain  brother's  hand.'  Then,  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  Roy  passed  her  door,  and  she  called  him  in 
and  reminded  him  of  it." 

"  And — and  what  did  Roy  say? — Oh,  father " 

"  Roy  denied  all  about  the  letter.  He  said  he 
never  saw  a  letter  for  Will,  and  Lucky  got  to  scream- 
ing, and  the  two  lads  to  words,  and  ill-words,  and 
then  to  blows,  and  there  was  like  to  be  real  murder 
done,  when  Providence  sent  me  that  way,  and  I  put 
myseP  between  them;  and  got  a  blow  on  my  head 
that  has  given  me  a  sair  pain,  but  nobody  is  heed- 
ing that — if  it  be  not  Tim  Buchan." 

"  Father,  I'll  never  forgive  the  man  who  struck 
you." 

"  Parf  ect  nonsense  I  The  blow  was  an  accident ! 
I  got  it  in  the  scuffle.  In  a  way,  I  deserved  it,  for 
if  you  get  into  another  man's  boat,  you  must  look  to 
get  your  fingers  or  your  head  broken.  But  this  or 
that,  the  village  is  boiling  like  the  sea  wi'  a  school 
o'  herring,  and  some  say  Will  has  been  o'er  hasty, 
and  others  say  he  did  what  was  well  and  right. 
God  knows." 


158  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  father,  that  Will  did 
not  know  about  the  letter  until  this  afternoon?" 

"  Not  until  two  hours  ago — hardly  that  itsel'." 

Then  Annie's  face  flushed  scarlet.  Confused, 
shaken,  lifted  off  her  feet  by  this  revelation  of  her 
lover's  lying  treachery,  she  did  not  shrink  or  com- 
promise, or  slide  away  from  the  truth.  A  moment 
or  two  she  hesitated,  while  she  looked  unswervingly 
on  the  shameful  facts.  Then  she  asked — 

"  Do  you  think,  father,  that  Roy  took  and  kept 
his  brother's  letter?  " 

"  You  may  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  if 
you  can,  Annie.  I  am  not  caring  to  say  what  I  think. 
I  do  not  like  Roy  Morrison,  so  I  would  be  a  hard 
judge.  Some  were  doubting  if  Roy  would  dare  to 
do  the  like — and  so  on " 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  Roy's  guilt,"  she  an- 
swered. "  He  told  me  he  took  the  letter.  He  showed 
it  to  me.  He  wanted  me  to  read  it." 

"Annie  Brodick!" 

"  I  never  touched  it.  I  made  him  promise  to  go 
to  his  brother  and  ask  his  forgiveness.  He  told  me 
last  night  that  he  had  done  so.  He  told  me  Will 
laughed,  and  said  it  was  of  no  consequence.  "He  lied 
to  me.  The  man  is  as  bad  as  you  believe  him  to  be, 
and  I  am  a  sorrowful  woman  this  day.  Maybe  I 


Roy  Accuses   Himself  159 

deserve  the  sorrow.  I  don't  rightly  know, — but  I 
do  know  that  I  have  a  bitter,  shameful  heart- 
ache"— and  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  arms  and 
wept  as  if  the  restrained  tears  of  her  lifetime  had 
suddenly  been  let  loose,  to  drown  and  carry  away  as 
with  a  flood  the  broken  promises,  withered  hopes,  and 
slain  love  apparently  doomed  never  to  know 
fruition — apparently,  because  every  sorrow  has  its 
horizon,  none  are  illimitable — apparently,  because 
God  had  not  permitted  that  any  diviner  should  find 
a  sure  mark  about  future  events.  Many  times  evil 
has  brought  good,  and  sorrow  been  full  of  strange 
joys  and  compensations. 

Her  father  bent  tenderly  over  the  distracted  girl. 
"  Annie,"  he  said,  "  my  dear  Annie,  the  eternal  God 
is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting 
arms — and  I  tell  thee,  when  thy  mother  was  dying, 
and  I  went  with  sinking  heart  through  days  and 
nights  of  pain  and  grief,  never  was  Christ's  love 
dearer,  or  his  voice  more  sweet.  Hearing  it,  I  would 
have  gone  through  flood  and  fire  to  kiss  his  feet — 
for  only  Heaven  is  better  than  to  walk  with  Christ  at 
midnight  over  sorrow's  sea." 

Annie  shook  her  head  despairingly,  and  he  left  her 
alone — alone  in  one  of  those  dreary  wastes  made 
by  the  loved  who  have  deceived  and  deserted  us — 


160  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

vacant  places,  watered  by  the  bitterest  tears  human 
beings  ever  shed.  She  felt  at  that  hour  that  all  was 
over.  All  had  been.  Her  love  had  turned  to  ashes, 
and  the  wind  had  carried  it  away.  Up  and  down  the 
past  her  soul  wandered,  finding  little  comfort,  for 
in  this  sore  strait  her  conscience  told  her  plainly 
that  "  she  had  been  deceived  because  she  wished  to 
be  deceived." . 

All  through  that  bitter  night  she  sat  dumb  and 
motionless,  without  hope,  and  without  comfort,  her 
thoughts  vaguely  following  up  and  down  some 
words  she  had  once  heard  her  father  say  to  a  man 
in  well-deserved  calamity — 

"Alick  Sutor,  the  worst  wounds  we  get  we  give 
oursePs,  with  our  own  hands,  and  God  never  lays  on 
any  man  or  woman  such  heavy  burdens  as  they 
bind  on  their  own  shoulders." 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

THE    BEGINNING   OF   FORGETFULNESS 

FOR  a  few;  days  the  Deacon  did  not  leave  his  home. 
He  thought  it  best  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the 
Morrison  boys,  and  away  from  the  discussion  of  an 
incident  so  shameful,  and  yet  which  had  a  certain 
regrettable  connection  with  his  daughter.  For  he 
would  be  compelled  to  give  his  opinion  regarding 
Roy's  innocence  or  guilt  in  the  affair,  and  he  could 
not  do  this  without  also  acknowledging  that  Roy 
had  confessed  the  theft  of  the  letter  to  Annie,  and 
that  she  had  given  him  three  days'  grace  in  which 
to  repair  the  wrong  as  far  as  possible. 

No  one  knew  better  than  Robert  Brodick  that 
many  would  regard  this  kindness  as  a  godless  sym- 
pathy with  the  sinner;  indeed,  he  was  not  sure  that 
he  himself  quite  acquitted  her  on  this  point.  Those 
three  days  had  been  the  fatal  days  of  decision  at  Me- 
Brine's,  and  therefore  Annie's  prompt  information 
would  have  probably  saved  Will's  position.  He 
found  it  hard  to  believe  that  a  girl  so  just  and  truth- 
ful should  for  three  days  and  nights  hesitate  be- 
tween right  and  wrong. 

On  the  fourth  morning  his  anxiety  about  the  mat- 

161 


1 62  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

ter  made  him  resolve  to  question  the  doctor.  "  Mc- 
Farlane  will  know  all  there  is  to  know,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "and  I'll  even  give  him  the  opportunity  to 
speak  this  morning,  for  he  is  o'er  clever  a  medical 
man  to  say  the  opening  word." 

But  as  it  happened,  McFarlane  introduced  the  sub- 
ject. "  It  was  a  nasty  blow  you  got,  Deacon ;  an  inch 
to  the  right  would  have  been  serious — very  serious 
indeed.  Roy  Morrison  in  his  passion  strikes  hard." 

"I  am  not  laying  the  blow  on  Roy — exactly. 
There  was  more  than  one  pair  o'  hands  on  either 
side,  and  I  put  myseP  in  the  thick  o'  the  stramash.  It 
was  in  the  nature  o'  an  accident,  I'm  thinking,  Sir. 
Naebody  would  want  to  hurt  me — why  should 
they?" 

"Just  so.  Why  should  they?  I  was  seeing  Roy 
Morrison  an  hour  syne." 

"  It  isn't  possible !  You  must  be  mistaken.  I  was 
sure  he  would  steal  awa'  as  soon  as  the  matter  was 
discovered." 

"Not  he!  Will  left  immediate.  The  poor  lad 
thought  an  explanation  would  maybe  put  all  right 
at  McBrine's.  I  am  doubting  that.  Lucky  Hislop 
is  in  her  bed;  she's  fretting  hersel'  into  typhoid  fever, 
I  fear.  I  was  seeing  her  early  this  morning.  She 
swears  she  gave  the  letter  to  Roy,  and  Roy  swears 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        163 

himseP  black  and  blue  that  she  did  not  give  him  the 
letter.  Some  folks,  if  you'll  believe  me,  are  taking 
Roy's  part;  and  there  is  a  design  o'  reporting  the 
poor  old  woman  to  the  government.  If  so,  she  will 
likely  lose  all  her  livelihood,  for  you  know  yoursel', 
Deacon,  the  government  is  as  particular  about  its  serv- 
ants as  Caesar  was  about  his  wife — above  sus- 
picion is  the  rule,  eh?  " 

"And  Roy  Morrison  is  still  here?  That  is  fair 
astonishment  to  me." 

"As  I  said,  he  was  here  an  hour  ago— he  is  not 
here  now." 

"You  said  you  saw  him." 

"Ay,  I  saw  him  going  to  the  boat  wi'  Mrs.  Loch- 
rigg  linking  on  his  arm.  My  Lady  Lochrigg  looked 
as  she  was  challenging  the  whole  island.  She  held 
up  her  head — and  a  handsome  head  it  is — and 
walked  like  the  Queen  o'  Sheba.  But  if  she  had  not 
been  at  the  man's  right  hand,  it  would  have  gone  vera 
unpleasantly  wi'  him.  There  were  rotten  eggs  and 
blistering  words  waiting  to  give  him  a  proper  set-off ; 
but  Madame's  stern  face,  and  her  do-if-you-dare 
manner,  awed  the  lads  into  behaving  themselves." 

"  That  was  like  Sarah  Lochrigg,"  answered  Brod- 
ick  with  enthusiasm.  "  Do d!  doctor,  that  woman  has 
a  heart  of  gold." 


164  The   Han'ds  of   Compulsion 

"  She  went  on  the  boat  with  the  lad,  and  in  her 
own  way  won  round  the  Captain;  for  he  led  her 
down  the  gangway  wi'  his  ain  hand,  and  stood  wi' 
his  bare  head  bidding  her  good-bye — and " 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder,"  interrupted  Brodick,"  he 
sailed  wi'  Captain  Lochrigg  when  he  was  nothing 
but  a  laddie." 

"Weel,  Mistress  Lochrigg  went  up  the  street  after 
the  parting  wi'  her  head  in  the  stars;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  in  her  heart  the  certainty  that  her  precious 
nephew  would  be  treated  wi'  respect  by  every  one  on 
The  Lady  Mary,  if  the  Captain  had  any  say-so  on 
his  own  ship.  Deacon,  you  are  right,  Sarah  Loch- 
rigg is  a  wonderful  woman  within  her  own  bounds." 

"Did  you  hear  where  Roy  was  going?  Glasgow, 
I  suppose?" 

"No,  no!  He  is  too  well  known  there.  He  is  go- 
ing to  Edinburgh." 

"Who  told  you  that  story?" 

"  Jean  McKenzie,  and  what  Jean  McKenzie  does 
not  know,  has  not  yet  been  thought  of." 

"I  wouldn't  wonder  if  Jean  is  right.  The  lads 
have  an  uncle  there,  a  well-to-do  watchmaker  and 
jeweler — a  man  that  is  the  very  marrow  o'  his  sister 
Sarah — but  what  for  did  he  wait  so  long?  Why  did 
he  not  go  at  once?" 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        165 

The  Deacon  asked  this  question  with  some  anxiety. 
Had  Roy  waited  to  see  Annie?  Had  he  seen  An- 
nie? Such  an  idea  he  could  hardly  take  into  his 
mind,  and  yet — yet — a  woman  loving  so  deeply  and 
tenderly,  might  be  led  to  forget  manifest  duty 
through  an  overwhelming  pity,  grounding  itself  in 
a  passionate  spiritual  anxiety  for  the  soul  of  the  Be- 
loved One.  So  he  asked  with  eyes  full  of  wistful 
solicitude — "Why  did  he  not  go  at  once?  This  is 
the  fourth  day.  What  was  he  doing  here?" 

"Nobody  got  sight  o'  him,  though  he  was  weel 
watched  for.  He  was  hiding  in  his  aunt's  house, 
and  she  was  busy,  here  and  there,  raising  some  ready 
money  for  the  miserable  creature." 

"Sarah  has  plenty  o'  lying  money  o'  her  own.  I'm 
not  understanding  Sarah  Lochrigg  borrowing 
money." 

"She  has  more  than  plenty,  but  Sarah  is  a  wonder- 
ful woman  for  investing.  As  soon  as  she  has  an  idle 
twenty  pounds,  off  it  goes  somewhere,  to  be  earn- 
ing its  interest.  And  she  had  just  sent  away  every 
shilling  she  could  spare.  She  borrowed  one  hun- 
dred pounds  from  Lawyer  Gait,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  the  lad  has  taken  every  bawbee  o'  the  hundred 
away  in  his  pouch.  It  is  a  quite  utterly  unspeakable 
business!" 


1 66  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"But  if  you  will  notice,  doctor,  there  is  generally 
something  very  good  in  everything  very  bad.  Roy 
Morrison's  wickedness — saying  the  lad  is  guilty — 
opened  freely  Mrs.  Lochrigg's  close  purse,  and  her 
love  for  the  lad  got  the  better  even  of  her  love  for 
honest  gold.  It  was  the  hardest  test  you  could  put 
to  her  religion,  and  thank  God !  it  went  to  the  bottom 
and  extremity  o'  things,  and  did  not  fail.  She  is  fond 
o'  money — we  all  know  that — but  when  the  heart 
and  the  purse  run  over  at  the  same  time,  there  is  no 
fear  o'  us  putting  gold  before  God." 

"I  am  thinking  your  word  will  be  required  on  the 
matter,  Brodick." 

"  Not  at  all.  Not  at  all.  I  have  neither  opinions 
nor  advices  to  give.  I  could  not  say  this  or  that 
without  hurting  Annie's  feelings,  and  I'll  not  do  that 
in  any  case." 

"  Private  and  personal,  you  mean,  of  course.  But 
this  case  is  bound  to  come  before  the  Kirk,  and  then 
what  will  you  say?  Roy  Morrison's  name  ought  to 
be  blotted  out  o'  our  Kirk's  membership,  and  rea- 
sons given  of  course,  and  who  can  say  more,  or 
more  truly,  than  yoursel'?" 

"I  will  not  vote  to  blot  any  name  off  the  Kirk 
book.  While  a  righteous  God  can  thole  the  man  on 
the  face  o'  the  earth,  we  can  surely  thole  his  name  in 


The   Beginning   of   Forgetfulness         167 

the  Kirk's  minutes.  And  if  God  takes  him  off  the 
earth,  he  is  beyond  our  say-so — clean  and  forever 
beyond  our  judgment." 

"I  was  hearing  that  the  ne'er-do-weel  confessed 
to  you,  or  to  your  daughter,  that  he  got  the 
letter." 

"If  it  were  so,  confessions  are  sacred  things.  But 
I  am  free  to  say  that  I  never  heard  a  word  o'  con- 
fession from  Roy  Morrison.  You  can  ask  Annie 
Brodick  the  question,  if  you  wish.  Yes,  or  no,  she 
will  tell  you  the  truth." 

"Good  gracious  man!  Do  you  think  a  lover  would 
tell  the  lass  he  loved  such  a  despicable,  disgraceful- 
like  thing  anent  himself?  If  he  did,  he  would  be  a 
mortal  idiot,  and  I  mysel'  would  send  him  to  Gart- 
sherrie  Asylum  on  this  evidence  alone." 

"Roy  was  no  idiot  about  his  own  affairs.  I  want 
to  know  who  said  anything  about  the  Kirk  taking 
cognizance  o'  the  matter?" 

"Elder  Ruthven.  He  thought  you  would  sift  the 
circumstance  to  the  last  atom  o'  truth  and  false- 
hood." 

"You  may  tell  Elder  Ruthven  I  will  say  neither 
yes  nor  no  about  it." 

"It  might  be  your  duty  to  speak,  Brodick." 

"Evil  deeds  are  none  the  worse  if  they  be  passed 


ii68  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

by  in  discreet  silence.  Moving  in  muddy  water,  only 
makes  it  muddier." 

"You  may  be  right,  Deacon,  but  if  it  were  well 
looked  into,  I  fear  this  passing  by  o'  transgressions 
would  be  found  to  be  a  bit  o'  rank  Arian  heresy — a 
thing  to  be  held  in  utter  abomination."  . 

"McFarlane,  you  are  simply  a  ferocious  Calvin- 
ist." 

"There  is  a  great  falling  away,  Deacon,  in  this 
respect;  and  the  talk  o'  Dr.  Balmuto  among  our 
fisher  folk  about  the  general,  ay,  the  universal  mercy 
of  God,  has  done  a  deal  o'  harm ;  and  most  taken  the 
fear  o'  God  from  them.  So  it  behooves  the  faithful 
to  keep  a  strict  watch  o'er  such  loose  'general'  doc- 
trine. Calvinism  lives  in  the  Eternal  Order,  and  the 
Eternal  Order  can  never  fail." 

"Weel,  weel,  McFarlane,  you  and  I  will  never  pull 
at  opposite  ends  of  the  rope — no  fear  o'  that." 

"Just  so.  I  thought  it  right  to  testify  so  far.  No 
offence  was  meant,  Brodick,"  and  he  pushed  his  big 
hand  across  the  table,  and  touched  Brodick's  hand. 
Then  they  smiled  and  nodded — that  mutual  nod 
brimming  over  with  friendly  confidence.  No  words 
were  needed  after  it,  and  McFarlane  rose,  and  Brod- 
ick went  to  the  door,  and  watched  his  friend  out  of 
sight.  He  was  a  large,  uncouth  man,  with  a  plain, 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        169 

rough  face,  an  irresistible  will,  and  a  domineering 
temper.  Not  a  popular  man,  but  Brodick  under- 
stood and  liked  him. 

"McFarlane  is  ugly  every  way  you  take  him,  and 
there  is  more  than  enough  of  him,"  said  Elder  Bruce 
one  night  after  a  stormy  session. 

"Ay,"  answered  Brodick,  "but  he  is  a  man  all 
through,  and  when  he  is  particularly  hot  and  over- 
bearing, Bruce,  he  is  just  humanity  on  fire.  Some- 
how, I'm  liking  him  best  of  all  then." 

As  he  turned  from  the  door,  Annie  entered  the 
room.  She  was  very  pale,  and  there  were  dark  shad- 
ows under  her  eyes,  and  darker  shadows  still  over 
that  inner  life  which  is,  after  all,  the  real  life.  For 
had  everything  been  well  there,  Annie  would  have 
been  rosy  and  happy,  and  full  of  hope  and  song.  She 
asked  after  her  father's  wound,  and  told  him  dinner 
was  nearly  ready,  "  And  I  have  made  you  the  beef- 
steak pudding  you  like  so  well,"  she  added,  "and  I 
am  hoping  you  can  eat  it  to-day,  father." 

"To  be  sure  I  can,  dearie."  Then  as  she  moved 
about  doing  in  a  silent,  listless  way  the  duties  that 
fell  to  her,  he  began  to  wonder  whether  it  would  be 
well  to  tell  her  Roy  had  left,  or  better  to  let  the 
trouble  lie  in  silent  neglect.  When  dinner  was  over 
he  was  still  uncertain  what  to  do,  but  Annie  herself 


170  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

opened  the  subject.  She  was  sitting  opposite  to  him 
on  the  hearth,  and  was  quite  unoccupied.  For  she 
had  put  out  of  her  sight  the  useless  wedding  gar- 
ments, and  her  empty  hands  had  a  pathetic  meaning 
to  the  sorrowful  father.  They  looked  even  more 
desolate  than  her  face. 

"Did  you  hear  tell,  father,  that  Roy  had  gone? 
He  will  fret  you  no  more  now." 

"McFarlane  told  me  so." 

"Then  it  is  true.  Kirsty  heard  it  when  she  went 
for  milk,  I  was  not  sure  o'  the  report." 

"It  is  certainly  true.  He  has  gone  to  an  uncle  in 
Edinburgh.  His  aunt  went  to  the  boat  with  him." 

"Well  she  might.  It  was  a  poor  job  she  made  in 
the  bringing  up  o'  Roy." 

"It  is  Roy's  own  fault.  He  had  the  same  bring- 
ing up  as  his  brother." 

"The  same,  just  so;  and  that  was  where  the  mis- 
chief began.  Roy  required  a  different  bringing  up, 
a  tighter  hand,  a  more  positive  way.  I  mind  Marion 
Balmuto  saying  that  some  souls  seemed  to  come 
here  ready-made — like  Will's — and  others  came  in 
the  rough  as  it  were,  being  purposely  sent  for  school- 
ing and  discipline — that  was  what  Roy  wanted,  and 
he  never  got  it.  Sarah  Lochrigg  was  not  fit  to  up- 
bring  boys — if  she  had  been,  God  would  have  given 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        171 

her  them ;  then  what  for  did  she  go  and  help  herself 
from  other  folks'  little  ones?  I  am  blaming  her  for 
all  that  has  happened." 

She  spoke  petulantly,  and  with  a  kind  of  angry 
assertion,  and  her  father  watched  her  with  an  under- 
standing pity.  At  first,  she  had  been  overwhelmed 
by  the  fear  that  her  disregard  of  her  father's  feel- 
ings, and  her  refusal  to  take  his  advice,  was  the  root 
and  the  fruit  of  Roy's  shameful  trouble.  But  Brod- 
ick  knew  that  no  one  accepts  the  whole  blame  for 
mischance  or  misdoing  for  long;  there  is  a  peremp- 
tory disposition  to  throw  a  good  share  on  some  one 
else,  and  Annie  had  chosen  Mrs.  Lochrigg  as  the 
chief  delinquent  in  Roy's  case. 

"God  help  her,"  mused  the  troubled  father,  "she 
would  blame  me  mysel'  if  there  was  no  one  else 
ready;"  and  with  the  thought  there  came  to  him  the 
certainty,  though  unconfessed  as  yet,  that  Annie 
really  did  hold  him  guilty.  Had  she  not  asked  him 
to  share  his  business  and  home  with  Roy?  He  had 
refused.  But  what  if  he  had  acted  differently?  And 
as  soon  as  he  put  this  question  to  himself,  he  knew 
that  Annie  had  asked  and  answered  it,  according  to 
her  own  feelings  and  desires. 

It  was  an  invisible  barrier  between  them,  all  the 
more  so,  that  neither  spoke  of  it;  the  Deacon,  be- 


172  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

cause  he  thought  it  an  almost  brutally  selfish  de- 
mand, Annie,  because  she  was  aware  of  its  specious- 
ness  and  injustice,  and  knew  her  claim  must  vanish 
before  her  father's  inviolable  right;  and  the  few 
strong  words  in  which  he  would  defend  that  right. 
And  she  felt  averse  to  give  up  this  grievance.  It  was 
her  last  resort,  when  day  after  day  she  hoped  for  a 
letter  and  none  came;  when  she  was  sick  at  heart, 
and  her  head  ached,  and  all  her  life  had  lost  its 
savor,  when  she  could  find  no  excuse  for  Roy's  neg- 
lect, she  could  at  least  fall  back  on  her  father's 
cruelty  to  him. 

"But  the  poor  lad  was  feared  for  father,"  she 
would  whisper  to  herself,  "  or  things  might  have  been 
so  different;  all  Roy  wanted  was  a  lift  up,  and  father 
would  not  give  him  it — well,  well,  if  my  dear  mother 
had  been  alive,  all  would  have  been  different — and 
Roy  is  not  knowing  what  I  suffer — or  caring — no- 
body cares — why  should  they  when  my  own  father 
doesn't  heed?" 

Then  would  follow  that  fatal  luxury  of  self-pity 
which  makes  the  soul  sink  back  upon  itself  and  retire 
from  all  affections. 

So  to  the  Deacon  and  his  daughter  the  Spring 
brought  little  pleasure,  and  the  Summer  widened 
the  breach.  For  the  father  had  then  the  reasonable 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        173 

excuse  of  increased  business  and  he  came  to  his  un- 
happy home  as  little  as  possible  during  the  six  days 
of  the  week,  and  on  the  Sabbath  hid  himself  in  that 
pavilion  of  solemn  silence,  which  Annie,  unreason- 
able as  she  was,  would  not  profane  with  her  earthly 
love-sorrow.  This  condition  came  very  gradually 
about.  At  first  Brodick  showed  a  wonderful 
sympathy  for  his  child;  he  respected  her  desire  for 
solitude,  and  took  pains  to  keep  from  her  the  numer- 
ous instances  of  Roy's  want  of  honesty  and  honor, 
which  every  day,  for  some  time  after  his  departure, 
came  to  public  discussion. 

However,  the  most  perfect  patience  has  its  limit, 
and  one  day  when  the  herring  season  was  over,  and 
the  wheat  reaped,  and  the  Winter  closing  in  upon 
them,  he  became  irritated  at  her  nursing  grief  for  a 
man  so  unworthy.  Her  pale  face,  her  eyes  red  with 
weeping,  and  her  listless  melancholy  manner  were 
wrongs  that  he  felt  it  hard  to  bear. 

He  laid  down  his  spoon,  pushed  his  soup  plate 
aside,  and  looking  with  displeasure  at  her  said, 
"Roy  Morrison's  boat  was  sold  to-day." 

"What  right  had  anyone  to  sell  Roy's  boat?" 

"It  was  sold  to  help  the  payment  of  his  debts.  He 
left  little  else  behind  him." 

"He  left  one  true  heart  that  loves  him." 


174  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"What  does  he  care  for  any  true  heart?  Not  so 
much  as  a  penny  postage  stamp.  Now,  Annie  Brod- 
ick,  I'll  have  no  crying  at  my  dinner  board.  I'm 
tired  to  death  of  your  tears — or  the  shadow  of 
them.  Be  done  with  your  selfish  sorrow,  for  a  ne'er- 
do-well  that  isn't  worth  one  thought  from  any  good 


woman." 


"Father,  I  will " 

"You  will  be  quiet  till  I  get  through  what  I  have 
got  to  say.  All  your  childhood  and  girlhood  you 
were  noted  for  your  extraordinary  self-restraint. 
Pain  couldn't  win  a  tear  from  your  eyes,  nor  dis- 
appointment; ay,  you  stood  at  your  mother's  coffin 
dry-eyed.  Now,  what  for  are  you  crying  yoursel' 
blind  for  a  parfect  blackguard?  And  though  it  be 
but  a  secondly  consideration — why  are  you  making 
me  the  most  homeless  and  miserable  man  in  Arran? 
I'll  have  no  more  of  such  sinful  ways.  I  say  'sin- 
ful' because  sorrow  like  you  breed,  comes  from  the 
devil — no  good  heart,  loving  and  trusting  God, 
would  give  it  five  minutes'  lodgment." 

"I  did  not  think  you  cared  whether  I  was  happy 
or  not.  And  you  might  have  saved  both  yourself 
and  me  this  trouble,  and  perhaps  Roy  his  transgres- 
sion, if  you  would  only  have  taken  the  poor  lad  by 
the  hand,  and  given  him  the  right  place  of  a  son-in- 


V. 

The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        175 

law.  But  little  you  cared  for  Roy's  welfare,  or  my 
happiness." 

"Oh!  that  is  the  sore  in  your  heart.  I  thought 
so.  Little  you  cared  for  my  happiness,  when  you 
wanted  me  to  danger  my  business  with  a  thief  at  the 
till  and  the  books.  Little  indeed  you  cared  for  my 
happiness,  when  you  would  have  let  such  a  miserable 
creature  on  my  hearth,  and  at  my  board,  and  made 
him  chief  in  all  your  love  and  care  even  before  my 
eyes,  and  in  my  ears,  morning,  noon  and  night.  I 
would  have  been  without  a  home  on  your  wedding 
day,  and  in  less  than  a  year's  go-by  I  would  have 
been  without  a  business." 

"You  just  took  a  hatred  of  Roy,  and  that  with- 
out any  reason  at  first." 

"Annie,  I  don't  tell  you  all  my  reasons  for  what  I 
say  or  do.  Plenty  other  folk  hated  him.  It  was 
hard  to  sell  his  boat.  No  one  wanted  it  after  him. 
At  last  Bob  Mullen  gave  two  pounds  for  the  unlucky 
thing.  *  It  will  whamle  o'er,  or  go  to  the  bottom,' 
he  said,  '  but  life's  a  poor,  bad  business  for  Roy 
Morrison  and  myseP,  and  I'll  gie  two  pounds  to  win 
decently  out  o'  it.'  " 

"I  am  ashamed  at  you,  father,  repeating  anything 
Bob  Mullen  said.  He  was  drunk,  of  course;  he  is 
always  drunk." 


176  TKe   Hands  of  Compulsion 

"Sober  enough  to  get  a  can  o'  paint  from  Joe 
Lindsey,  and  paint  out  your  name,  and  put  Maggie 
Flett's  in  its  place.  Well  then,  that  is  the  last  o' 
The  Bonnie  Annie" 

"  I  am  glad  if  it.  That  boat  was  the  first  of  the 
trouble.  The  unlucky  thing  may  go  to  matches  on 
any  rock  she  likes.  What  for  are  you  telling  me  this 
news?  It  isn't  like  you." 

"  Because  when  the  body  is  requiring  the  sur- 
geon's knife,  the  doctor  isn't  the  help  needed.  I 
have  said  kina  words  to  you,  and  kept  ill  news  from 
you,  month  after  month,  and  you  are  neither  sensi- 
ble o'  the  kindness  nor  better  o'  the  ignorance.  So 
from  this  hour,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth,  and  the 
whole  o'  it."  f 

"  That  was,  and  is,  your  duty.    I  am  no  bairn." 

"  You  are  a  most  ungrateful  woman." 

"  I  am  a  very  sorrowful  woman.  If  my  mother 
was  alive " 

"  She  would  have  sorted  you  long  before  this. 
Do  you  think  you  are  the  only  girl  that  ever  made  an 
idol  of  a  man  and  then  found  him  clay?  Think 
shame  o'  yoursel,  for  crying  o'er  a  general  calamity 
that  women  have  had  to  thole  ever  since  the  world 
began.  Now  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Saunders  is  to  have  a  great  installment  a 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        177 

week  from  next  Sabbath  Day.  There  will  be  four 
famous  ministers  there,  the  Moderator  o'  the  Kirk 
of  Scotland  likely  being  one  o'  them.  A  grand, 
gracious  occasion  it  will  be,  and  we — the  baith  o'  us 
— are  bid  to  witness  it.  Thinly  o'  it!  An  invite 
to  the  Minister's  ain  house !  Will  you  behave  your- 
sel'  and  go  with  me?" 

"To  Mr.  Saunders  installation?  No.  I  cannot 
go,  even  if  I  wanted  to  go— and  I  do  not  want  to 

go." 

"Why  can't  you  go?" 

"  I  have  no  fitting  clothes  to  wear." 

"  You  made  yoursel'  some  very  bonnie  gowns  not 
so  long  since." 

"  I  made  them  for  my  wedding,  and  I  will  never 
put  one  o'  them  on  me  for  a»less  occasion.  Marion 
Balmuto  will  likely  be  there,  and  in  the  height, 
and  length,  and  breadth  o'  the  fashion.  I  am  not 
wanting  to  go,  father — in  any  case.  You  might 
know  that." 

"  As  you  cannot  take  a  Godsend  o'  pleasuring 
with  a  good  heart,  I'm  not  wanting  you  to  go.  Your 
unhappy  face  would  be  a  discomforture  to  every 
one  there.  Forbye,  I  would  be  fairly  ashamed  to 
have  Mr.  Saunders  see  you,  for  when  he  asked  you 
to  be " 


178  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Mrs.  Saunders." 

"  Ay,  Mrs.  Saunders — a  great  honor  if  you  had 
had  your  senses  at  the  time — you  were  a  parfect 
beauty;  a  lovely,  healthy,  happy  girl  on  the  sunny 
side  o'  eighteen  years  old.  Now,  you  are  withered 
and  haggard,  and  look  thirty  at  the  least — and  your 
beauty  is  washed  away,  and  you're  as  crabbit  as 
an  auld  maid  o'  fifty.  I  would  hate  Mr.  Saunders 
to  see  the  change.  I  used  to  be  the  proudest  father 
in  Scotland,  full  o'  the  glory  o'  your  sweetness,  and 
your  fine  looks.  I  am  not  proud  o'  you  now.  I 
would  just  as  leave,  and  rather,  go  to  Glasgow  with- 
out you.  I'm  not  caring  for  folks  pitying  me." 

"  Father,  it  is  a  shame — a  cruel  shame — to  speak 
to  me  in  such  a  belittling  way.  I  am  neither  old  nor 
ugly  yet.  You  use  your  power  very  meanly,  to  say 
I  am.  No  one  would  dare  to  talk  to  me  so  insult- 
ingly— but  you." 

"  I  am  judging  from  observation — mine  own,  and 
others.  There  are  no  sweethearts  coming  up  to 
Brodick  house  these  days." 

"  That  is  my  own  fault — and  yours." 

"Mine?" 

"  Yes.  You  don't  know  how  to  treat  a  decent  lad 
properly.  You  are  aye  feared  they  are  going  to 
wrong  you,  some  way  or  other.  No  one  will  go 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        179 

where  they  are  suspicioned,  whatever  they  say,  or 
do.  What  do  I  want  with  sweethearts?  I  have 
promised  Roy  Morrison  to  be  his  wife.  I'll  not 
break  that  promise." 

"  Annie,  I  have  let  you  talk  back  to  me  this  time. 
I  had  my  reasons.  Now  listen  to  me.  I  am  going 
to  Glasgow  by  mysel',  and  when  I  come  back,  I'll 
be  expecting  to  find  the  house  clean  and  bright  and 
cheerful,  as  it  used  to  be.  You'll  drop  no  more 
tears  into  my  food,  and  you'll  croon  no  more  be- 
wailing laments  in  my  house-place.  If  one  love  has 
played  you  a  mean,  false  trick,  try  and  do  your  plain 
duty  to  the  true  love,  that  is  still  yours;  and  if  you 
don't  have  the  thing  you  want,  make  the  best,  and 
the  happiest,  of  the  things  you  do  have.  Let  me 
tell  you " 

"No,  no!    Stop,  father." 

"  Not  yet.  Let  me  tell  you,  the  house  has  not 
been  as  clean  and  tidy  lately  as  it  used  to  be;  and 
many  things  have  been  out  of  their  usual  time  and 
place — and  I  may  make  the  observe — that  I  distrust 
women  to  whom  dust  and  disorder  is  of  no  conse- 
quence. There  is  something  wrong  with  their 
spiritual  life.  Your  soul,  as  well  as  my  house,  needs 
inquiring  after.  I  could  say  more " 

"  You  have  said  enough — too  much,  father.    And 


'i8o  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

I  see  Sarah  Lochrigg  coming.  I  cannot  see  her. 
I  could  not  endure  her  talk — let  me  go,  father.  I'll 
try  and  do  better." 

Brodick  made  no  objections,  and  Annie  slipped 
upstairs  as  Mrs.  Lochrigg  entered  the  house.  She 
was  much  excited  and  had  a  letter  in  her  hand.  It 
was  from  Mr.  Saunders,  and  Sarah  was  much  flat- 
tered by  his  attention. 

"  I  shall  lay  the  letter  on  the  very  top  o1  my 
card  basket,"  she  laughed.  "  It  is  the  same  as  a 
bill  o'  good  moral  health,  for  folks  can't  say  an  ill 
word  of  a  woman  with  a  minister's  own  invitation 
so  prominent.  Are  you  going,  Robert?" 

"  Ay,  but  Annie  is  dour  against  going.  She  says 
she  will  stay  at  home." 

"  She  is  right." 

"  Right !    What  for  is  she  right  ?  " 

"  For  more  reasons  than  I  can  give  you  now.  And 
if  they  are  not  already  staring  you  in  the  face,  there 
is  no  use  trying  to  make  you  see  them.  I  would  not 
go  a  step,  if  I  was  Annie,  so  I  know  she  is  right, 


reason    or  no  reason." 


"  I  wish  you  would  talk  to  her,  wisely  and  kindly, 
Sarah;  I  have  taken  the  upper  hand  with  her  to-day, 
and  she  is  feeling  it." 

"  You  ought  to  have  done  so  long  since." 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        181 

"  Maybe  I  ought.  When  I  am  away  call  her 
downstairs,  and  make  her  listen  to  you.  One  woman 
ought  to  know  what  to  say  to  another.  I  am  either 
too  rough  or  too  kind." 

"  Robert,  you  will  require  to  get  a  new  suit  of 
blacks." 

"  I  know.     I   am  going  to  Johnston's   about  it 


now." 


"  Man  Robert !  Buy  a  ready-made  suit  in  Glas- 
gow. It  will  be  city-like.  Johnston's  cuts  are  ter- 
ribly countrified.  You  have  a  fine  figure,  get  a  ready- 
made  suit  to  fit  it." 

Brodick  straightened  himself  and  threw  back  his 
shoulders,  and  Sarah  smiled  at  the  vanity  of  the 
man.  But  Brodick  did  not  accept  her  advice. 
"Ready-made  clothes!"  he  snorted  scornfully.  "I 
wouldn't  put  them  on  my  back.  As  you  say,  Sarah, 
I  have  a  good  figure,  and  I'll  have  my  clothes  made 
to  fit  it.  Will  you  get  a  new  dress  for  the  occasion, 
Sarah?"  A 

"  Me  I  I  sre  mysel'  spending  twenty  pounds  on 
little  Saunders'  installation.  No,  no!  I  shall  send 
my  *  regrets  '  and  keep  the  sovereigns  where  they  will 
be  doing  their  duty,  and  earning  a  few  bawbees. 
Now  run  awa',  Robert,  and  order  your  breeks,  and 
your  coat,  and  your  waistcoat  o'  black  satin,  for  I 


182  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

know  there  is  no  joy  to  men-folks  like  a  special  serv- 
ice, wi'  a  presbytery  o'  ministers  to  conduct  it." 

"  You  see  I  was  one  o'  Mr.  Saunders'  deacons." 

"  Excuses  are  not  in  order.  Go  your  ways  to  the 
tailors,  and  I'll  call  Annie  down,  and  see  what  I  can 
make  o'  her." 

She  watched  Brodick  outside  the  gate,  and  then 
went  to  the  stair  foot  and  called — "Annie  Brodick! 
Annie  Brodick  1  "  At  first,  Annie  did  not  answer, 
but  Sarah's  insistence  at  length  compelled  her  recog- 
nition. She  came  down  slowly,  and  showed  a  face 
wan  and  wretched-looking.  "  You  poor  bit  lassie !  " 
cried  Sarah.  "Whatever  is  wrong  wi'  you?" 

"  Father  and  I  have  had  a  few  words,  and  I 
think  he  was  unkind  beyond  everything." 

11  Men  are  always  either  unkind  or  too  kind. 
They  have  neither  sense  nor  mense.  We  will  talk 
the  matter  o'er  between  ourselves,  but  first,  Annie, 
give  me  a  cup  o'  your  tea.  No  one  can  infuse  a 
pot  o'  tea  like  Annie  Brodick.  You  are  the  best 
tea-maker  in  the  whole  town." 

"  There  is  a  deal  in  the  kind  o'  tea,  Sarah.  Father 
sends  the  very  best  home — six  and  sixpence  a  pound 
at  the  least — and  whiles  even  higher." 

"  Yes,  but  you  have — the  way  \  Your  mother 
had  it  likewise.  It's  a  gift,  Annie." 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        183 

And  Annie  was  flattered  and  pleased,  and  called 
for  boiling  water,  and  made  the  tea,  bringing,  al- 
most cheerfully,  with  her  own  hands  sugar  and 
cream,  and  a  few  sweet  crackers  "  just  to  nibble 
at." 

"  It  is  an  extraordinar  solace,  Annie,"  said  the 
elder  woman,  sipping  her  Young  Hyson  deliber- 
ately. Her  feet  rested  on  the  steel  fender,  and  her 
black  cashmere  dress  was  carefully  folded  back  over 
her  knees,  lest  the  heat  should  injure  it.  "  Now, 
Annie,"  she  continued,  "  what  is  it  between  you  and 
your  good  father?  Tell  Aunt  Sarah — for  you  used 
always  to  call  me  aunt — and  I  am  sure  I  couldn't 
have  been  nearer  or  dearer  to  your  mother  if  we 
had  been  twins  in  one  household." 

11 1  know  that,  Aunt  Sarah.  Roy  is  between  father 
and  myself — nothing  else." 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you,  Roy  must  step  out.  He  is 
just  a  troubler  of  families.  He  has  now  his  uncle's 
household  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  he  has  got  his 
dismissal  in  consequence.  Annie  Brodick,  you  must 
forget  Roy." 

"  I  cannot  forget — forgetting  is  the  death  of  your 
heart,  and  I  love  Roy  yet." 

"  I  love  him  also." 

"  Then  do  you  forget  him?  " 


1184  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  me  to  forget  him.  I 
can  please  mysel'  who  or  what  I  love.  You  can't." 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  are  yet  under  authority.  Your  father's 
house  is  not  yours,  and  it  is  a  sin  to  fill  anybody's 
home  with  sighing  and  weeping.  Wait  until  you 
have  your  own  house,  then,  if  you  like,  you  can  make 
complaining  places  of  every  room  in  it." 

"  If  Roy  had  had  any  kind  of  justice " 

"  He  would  likely  have  been  in  prison  ere  this 
time.  He  has  had  mercy  instead — and  little  good 
it  has  done  him.  He  is  in  a  peck  o*  trouble,  even 
now." 

"  What  is  wrong  now?  " 

11  Women,  in  the  first  place — making  love  to  his 
cousins  Betty  and  Jennie  at  the  same  time,  and  con- 
fidences between  sisters,  of  course,  and  the  cat  out 
o'  the  bag,  and  the  father  furious,  and  the  mother 
crying,  and  the  two  girls  quarreling  with  one  an- 
other. He  says  they  made  love  to  him,  but  there, 
who  knows?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  Roy  is  right.  He  sends  you  let- 
ters— he  has  never  written  me  a  word.  That  is 
what  breaks  my  heart." 

"  Roy's  letters  to  you  would  mean  nothing — only 
a  few  silly  words  without  truth  in  them.  The  only 


The   Beginning   of    Forgetfulness         185 

letters  he  writes  sincerely  are  those  in  which  he  asks 
for  money.  But  it  is  not  of  Roy  I  want  to  speak. 
He  is  out  of  your  life.  You  can  no  more  bring  back 
the  past  than  you  can  tie  cobwebs,  or  mend  bubbles. 
It  is  your  father  who  is  now  important,  for  he  has 
come  to  a  turning  point  which  taken  wrong  may 
mean  sorrow  for  both  o'  you." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Aunt  Sarah?" 

"  He  is  sick  of  his  home,  the  way  you  keep  it  this 
past  year,  and  I  am  wondering  mysel'  at  his  extraor- 
dinar  patience.  But  patience  has  grown  to  im- 
patience, and  if  you  do  not  walk  your  shoes 
straighter,  you  will  be  forced  to  walk  out  of  all  the 
pleasant  paths  of  your  past  life." 

"  Do  say  plainly  what  you  want  to  say,  Sarah. 
I  am  not  understanding  you." 

"  In  plain  words  then,  your  father  will  take  him 
a  wife  to  keep  his  home  as  he  wants  it  kept.  There 
are  two  rather  nice  widow  women  even  now  setting 
their  white  caps  and  streamers  for  his  favor,  not  to 
speak  o'  Miss  Grizelda  Binnie,  the  maiden  lady  of 
Beech  bank." 

"  Who  are  the  widows?  " 

"  First,  the  Widow  McLean,  who  is  well-to-do, 
and  who  stands  high  in  the  Kirk;  and  second,  pretty 
Leslie  Kerr,  who  is  sonsie  and  merry,  and  not  over 


1 86  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

forty  years  old.  Miss  Binnie  in  her  pony  carriage 
is  at  your  father's  shop  most  every  day.  She  has 
three  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  thinks  hersel'  the 
topping  stone  o'  religion  and  gentility.  I  have 
watched  them  all  three,  Annie,  and  I  know  well  they 

•MM 

are  all  three  desiring  to  be  Mistress  Brodick.  And 
mind  this,  my  dearie,  your  father  is  only  a  man,  that 
is  to  say,  he  is  a  vain  creature,  well-conceited  o'  his 
own  parfections." 

"  Aunt  Sarah,  if  you  would  marry  father,  I  would 
like  that." 

"  Me  marry  1  No,  no  child  1  I  know  a  thing  or 
two  beyond  marrying — that  bit  o'  foolishness  is  for 
bairns  in  wisdom  and  experience.  I  have  been  my 
own  mistress  too  long,  to  have  any  man  body  calling 
me  up  and  down  the  house,  and  wanting  this,  that, 
and  the  other  thing;  for  it  is  untelling  what  you 
may  have  to  do  for  the  best  o'  them." 

"  Father  thinks  so  highly  of  you,  Aunt." 

"  Ay,  he  has  often  said  so,  but  I  am  out  o'  the 
question.  One  thing  is  sure,  you  may  soon  have  to 
consider  whether  it  will  be  Widow  McLean,  or  Les- 
lie Kerr,  or  that  upsetting  Grizelda  Binnie,  who  will 
be  set  o'er  you.  For  I  tell  you,  it  will  be  one  o'  the 
three,  if  you  do  not  study  your  father's  comfort 
more,  and  better." 


The   Beginning  of   Forgetfulness        187 

"  Father  has  whiles  a  very  trying  way." 

"  Trying  way !  every  man  has  a  trying  way  o'  his 
own,  but  it  is  next  to  the  chief  end  of  a  daughter 
to  find  it  out,  and  humor  it.  If  you  don't  do  it, 
Annie,  some  other  woman  will,  I'm  telling  you. 
Even  now,  you  are  a  speculation  to  the  women  in 
their  gossipping — they  are  aye  wondering  and  dis- 
cussing how  this  or  the  other  step-mother  would 
treat  you;  for  it  is  a  well  known  fact  that  a  girl 
who  gets  a  step-mother,  gets  a  step-father  at  the 
same  time." 

"  Father  would  allow  no  one  to  treat  me  badly." 

"  That's  a  problem — we  won't  discuss  it.  But 
you  have  yet  some  opportunity  left  to  regain  your 
place;  be  busy  about  it,  for  opportunities  have  usu- 
ally a  short  life.  Do  as  I  tell  you — it  is  better  and 
easier  to  humble  yoursel'  to  your  father  than  to 
some  strange  usurping  woman." 

"  I  know.  Oh  yes,  I  know.  But  I  have  done 
nothing  wrong.  Why  then  should  I  humble  my- 
self?" 

'  You  have  done  wrong  every  day  o'  the  last  year, 
and  every  hour  o'  the  day." 

"Aunt  Sarah!" 

"  Ay,  have  you,  but  there's  none  so  hard  to  con- 
vince of  a  fault  as  they  who  know  themselves  in 


1 88  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

the  wrong.  One  o'  the  prime  duties  of  the  mistress 
of  any  home  is  the  duty  o'  the  cheerful  morning 
face,  and  your  own  servant  lass  told  me  you  came 
down  wi'  woesome  looks  and  weary  eyes,  and  hardly 
able  to  speak,  day  after  day.  A  nice,  cheerful  com- 
panion you  must  be  at  any  breakfast  table!  It  is  a 
sin  and  a  shame  to  begin  your  own  days  in  a  way  like 
that.  It  is  a  cruel  offence,  an  unpardonable  wrong, 
to  continually  send  your  father  into  the  world's 
fight  with  gloom  and  discontent,  and  everything  to 
discourage  him.  You  have  kept  up  a  moral  drizzle, 
Annie,  month  after  month,  until  you  have  broken  the 
spirit  of  the  best  man  God  ever  made.  Will  you 
now  turn  round,  and  do  as  I  advise  you?" 

"  If  father  would  bring  back  Roy." 

"  He  will  not,  and  he  ought  not.  I  have  come 
to  see  that  no  human  being  can  help  Roy.  He  must 
go  to  the  schools  of  suffering  and  poverty.  He  must 
prove  the  folly  o'  his  own  way  by  trials  sore  and 
many." 

"  Aunt,  Aunt,  do  not  spae  ill  fortune  to  him.  How 
can  you?  " 

"  Give  Roy  up,  even  in  your  thoughts.  Do  not 
ruin  your  life,  and  your  father's  life,  for  him.  He 
will  be  taken  care  of  by  Them  who  will  guide  him 


The    Beginning   of    Forgetfulness        189 

wisely,  where  we  have  guided  him  foolishly.  Will 
you  leave  him  with  Them?" 

"How  can  I?" 

"  Weel,  I  have  told  you  the  truth.  If  you  wish 
to  steep  yoursel'  a  while  longer  in  this  brine  o'  your 
ain  salting,  do  so.  I'll  say  no  more.  Dear  knows,  I 
am  sorry  for  you,  but  I'll  be  going.  I'm  little  use 
here.  I  see  that." 

"  You  have  done  more  than  you  think,  Aunt 
Sarah.  I  may  turn  the  leaf  straight  over.  I  will 
have  no  woman  here  in  my  place." 

"  That  is  right.  And  dress  yoursel'  a  bit  bonnier. 
Your  father  is  gey  fond  o'  a  bright  ribbon,  and  a 
happy  smile  to  marrow  it.  Upon  my  word,  Annie, 
very  little  pleases  him,  and  you  have  the  ball  in 
your  hand.  Think  the  matter  over.  Could  you  go 
with  your  father  to  the  installation?" 

"  I  have  no  dress  fitting." 

"  Say  you  had  a  dress?" 

"  I  could  not  go.     Don't  you  understand?  " 

"  Ay,  I  think  I  do.  Good-bye,  Annie !  I  am  your 
friend,  whatever  comes  or  goes." 


CHAPTER   NINE 

A  LITTLE  TOO  LATE 

CAUTIOUS,  both  by  birth  and  lifelong  training,  it 
cannot  be  supposed  that  Annie  was  indifferent  to 
the  news  Mrs.  Lochrigg  had  brought  her,  and  the 
advice  she  had  given.  She  went  to  her  room  to 
consider  it  point  by  point.  In  the  first  place  she  ac- 
cepted its  truthfulness  without  demur;  there  was  no 
question  of  its  reliability.  Her  father's  intention 
of  marriage,  and  Roy's  infidelity  to  herself,  were 
two  facts  not  to  be  disputed.  What  then  was  the 
best  way  to  receive  or  to  combat  them? 

It  struck  her  as  strange  that  her  father's  defection 
hurt  her  the  most  acutely,  and  also  assumed  the  first 
and  highest  importance.  How  was  this?  Was  she 
forgetting  Roy?  Was  he  less  dear  to  her?  Cer- 
tainly, her  father's  threatened  marriage  put  aside 
the  tragic  delay  of  her  own.  The  circumstance 
troubled  her.  Was  she  beginning  to  forget!  She 
resolved  to  remember  Roy  specially,  every  time  the 
clock  struck,  and  she  did  not  comment  upon  the  fact 

190 


A   Little   Too    Late  191 

that  she  was  telling  her  heart  to  do  w.hat  it  had  hith- 
erto done  itself. 

She  knew  the  three  women  who  were  intriguing 
for  her  father  and  her  home,  and  she  liked  none 
of  them.  Pretty  Leslie  Kerr  was  the  least  objection- 
able, but  Annie  had  always  felt  her  assumption  of 
youth  and  beauty  to  be  ridiculous.  She  had  no 
wrinkles,  and  no  grey  hairs,  and  she  knew  how  to 
hide  her  years  with  demurely  fetching  gowns  and 
neckwear.  She  would  certainly  teach  her  father  the 
meaning  of  it  all — in  cash. 

"And  I  would  have  to  outdress  her,  no  matter 
what  it  cost,"  reflected  Annie,  "  and  if  father  likes 
that  kind  of  rivalry  in  his  home,  we  two  could  give 
him  enough  of  it.  As  for  Miss  Grizel  Binnie,"  she 
continued,  "  I  could  manage  her.  I  would  just  need 
to  pet  her  lap  dogs,  and  tell  her  she  was  aristocratic- 
looking — two  things  I  would  not  do  under  any  cir- 
cumstances; and  for  the  Widow  McLean  I  have  not 
one  likelihood.  I  simply  would  not  live  under  the 
same  roof  with  her,  and  to  sit  at  the  same  table  with 
Christy  McLean  three  times  every  day  is  an  un- 
thinkable situation — well,  then,  Annie  Brodick,  what 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

She  asked  herself  this  question  audibly,  and  in 
the  stress  of  feeling  it  evoked,  unconsciously  stood 


192  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

up  to  answer  it.  "  I  am  not  going  to  leave  father 
and  home  for  any  one  of  these  three  women.  I 
can  make  much  of  Robert  Brodick,  as  well  as  they 
can.  I  can  dress  beyond  any  of  them,  and  I  have 
youth  and  beauty,  though  father  did  say  I  was  with- 
ered and  haggard,  and  looked  thirty  years  old — he 
knew  better — well  he  knew  better,  and  I'll  show  him 
that  I'm  on  the  right  side  of  twenty  yet.  Then  I 
can  make  the  house-place  brighter  than  any  he  finds 
elsewhere,  and  for  my  mother's  sake,  and  my  own 
sake,  I'll  give  father  no  excuse  for  putting  Leslie 
Kerr,  or  Grizel  Binnie,  or  that  tawpie  Aggie  Mc- 
Lean in  her  place." 

As  soon  as  this  decision  was  reached  she  ran  down- 
stairs, made  the  house-place  cozy  and  bright  and 
warm,  hurried  back  to  her  room,  crimped  and  curled 
her  hair,  and  put  on  her  ruby-colored  merino,  with 
its  velvet  trimmings  and  ivory-shaded  lace,  that  her 
father  like  best  of  all  her  dresses. 

These  homely  duties  left  her  no  time  to  consider 
Roy's  love-making  to  his  cousins;  she  put  that 
trouble  aside  until  the  night  hours  would  lawfully 
giver  her  solitude.  Then  she  prepared  the  tea-table 
and  watched  for  her  father's  home-coming.  When 
he  was  at  the  garden  gate  she  tapped  on  the  window, 
and  smiled  a  welcome  as  she  had  been  used  to  do 


A   Little   Too    Late  193 

before  the  trouble  about  Roy  came,  and  though  her 
smile  was  not  answered,  she  did  not  allow  herself 
to  drop  below  the  pitch  she  had  resolved  to  live  at. 

But  as  it  often  happens — when  we  resolve  to  be 
good  and  kind — circumstances  are  against  us.  The 
Deacon  had  left  the  house  angry  with  his  daughter, 
and  her  apparent  cheerfulness  was  something  of  an 
offence.  Did  she  intend  to  show  him  how  easily  she 
could  put  his  displeasure  aside?  And  was  his  un- 
usual scolding  a  thing  of  so  little  consequence  that 
it  might  be  passed  over  without  one  word  of  sorrow 
from  the  delinquent  who  had  made  him  suffer  so 
much  for  so  long?  No,  Annie  was  making  too  little 
of  her  faults.  He  wanted  his  prodigal  daughter  to 
confess  her  sins  against  him,  and  acknowledge  that 
she  had  abused  his  love  and  long-suffering,  and  then 
— then  certainly,  he  would  kiss  and  forgive  her. 
Alas,  Annie  had  forgotten  this  preliminary  to  re- 
stored affection,  so  her  father  was  depressed  and 
silent,  and  almost  irresponsive  to  all  her  attempts  at 
conversation. 

The  Deacon  was,  in  fact,  yielding  to  that  most  or- 
dinary of  domestic  temptations — getting  cross  as 
others  grow  kind.  Fortunately  Annie  understood 
the  mood  of  her  father.  Had  she  not  seen  her 
mother  master  it  under  all  kinds  of  conditions  ?  And 


194  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

still  more  enlightening  was  the  fact  that  she  person- 
ally had  given  way  to  it,  and  for  months  repelled 
loyal  and  loving  advances  by  its  chilling  attitude  of 
unpardonable  wrong  and  ill-usage.  She  therefore 
accepted  the  retaliation  and  made  the  best  of  it. 

So  until  the  Deacon's  departure  for  the  installa- 
tion, a  kind  of  April  weather,  gloom  and  sunshine, 
prevailed.  Both  earnestly  desired  to  restore  the  old 
and  happy  conditions,  but  the  temperature  of  house- 
hold life  is  about  as  uncertain  as  the  temperature  of 
the  weather.  And  just  at  this  time  the  Deacon  was 
anxious  about  many  things — he  was  making  out  a 
list  for  his  Spring  purchases — he  was  writing  direc- 
tions for  his  clerks  to  meet  all  the  exigencies  he 
thought  probable — he  had  many  good-bye  calls  to 
make — and  his  new  suit  had  to  be  sent  back  for  al- 
terations, and  did  not  finally  reach  him  until  he  was 
ready  to  leave  for  Glasgow.  During  the  next  ten 
days  Annie  fully  realized  that  she  had  forced 
changes  in  her  life  that  made  it  almost  impossible 
to  bring  back  the  peaceful,  pleasant  conditions  she 
had  so  foolishly  allowed  to  drift  away. 

The  Deacon  was  to  be  a  week  or  more  in  Glasgow, 
and  Annie  spent  the  time  in  renovating  the  house, 
and  in  a  thorough  examination  of  herself  and  her 
possible  outlook.  There  was  tumult  and  rebellion 


A   Little   Too    Late  195 

in  her  soul,  and  the  bitterness  with  which  she  peered 
into  the  shadowy  way  before  her  cannot  be  ex- 
pressed by  any  word  or  sign.  That  this  trouble  was 
mainly  her  own  fault,  made  the  searching  inquiries 
no  easier.  And  as  to  Roy,  she  still  loved  him,  though 
Sarah  Lochrigg  had  insisted  on  her  reading  his 
uncle's  letter  setting  forth  Roy's  misdoings.  She 
did  so,  and  gave  it  back  with  the  remark,  "  We  have 
only  one  side  of  the  story,  Aunt;  Roy  ought  to  be 
heard  also."  "  You  are  an  unconvinceable  lassie," 
replied  Mrs.  Lochrigg,  and  Annie  shrugged  her 
shoulders  and  turned  away,  for  Love  laughs  at 
evidences. 

Sarah  was  helping  her  with  the  house,  and  very 
hard  both  women  worked  to  make  it  as  beautiful  as 
fresh  white  paint  and  new  muslin  curtains  and  many 
pretty  accessories  could  do;  while  Sarah's  oversight 
of  the  cleaning  women  insured  that  exquisite  spotless- 
ness  of  every  cupboard,  nook  and  corner,  which  com- 
pelled all  who  entered  the  house  to  smile  and  sigh 
with  pleasure,  or  perhaps  ejaculate,  "  How  fresh ! 
How  sweet  the  place  is!"  And  it  was  fresh  and 
sweet  as  the  pansies  and  hyacinths  that  filled  the 
window  shelves.  The  place  fitted  the  flowers,  and 
the  flowers  fitted  the  place,  and  what  more  can  be 
said? 


'196  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

During  the  day,  and  the  labor  it  brought,  Annie 
kept  cheerful,  but  the  loneliness  of  the  night  hours 
revealed  clearly  to  her  that  she  had  herself  passed 
a  line  she  could  never  re-cross.  She  was  not  yet 
twenty,  but  all  the  spontaneous  mirth,  and  all  the 
unconscious  love  of  motion,  characteristic  of  joyous 
youth,  was  gone;  and  she  could  neither  recall  nor 
imitate  it.  For  any  soul  that  has  suffered  Love's 
sorrow  is  awakened  forever  to  the  melancholy  side 
of  things.  It  has  undergone  the  earth,  and  the 
heaven-touched  carelessness  and  fearlessness  of  child- 
hood have  passed  out  of  the  possibilities  of  future 
life. 

Yet  it  was  with  loving  words  and  a  beaming  smile 
Annie  met  her  father  on  his  return;  and  this  time 
her  efforts  to  win  him  met  a  full  reward.  He  was 
delighted  with  his  renovated  home,  and  his  rejuven- 
ated daughter.  He  praised  both  without  stint,  and 
ate  with  joyful  heart  the  good  meal  Annie  had  pre- 
pared for  him.  He  had  had  a  charming  visit,  and 
was  full  of  content  and  satisfaction.  The  big  Kirk, 
the  famous  ministers,  the  great  congregation,  the 
handsome  manse,  the  Minister's  mother,  and  the  won- 
derfully fine  meals  she  served,  were  the  topics  of  con- 
versation that  never  seemed  to  weary  him. 

They  soon  wearied  Annie,  however,  for  she  saw 


A   Little   Too   Late  197 

plainly  that  her  father  had  not  given  up  the  hope 
that  she  would  yet  marry  Mr.  Saunders.  This  event 
seemed  to  the  Deacon  so  desirable,  so  almost  natural, 
he  could  not  but  believe  in  its  final  certainty.  Dur- 
ing this  visit  he  had  also  found  time  to  renew  his 
friendship  with  Dr.  Balmuto,  and  Marion  had  sent 
Annie  a  loving  letter  and  a  pair  of  gold  bracelets, 
and  asked  her  to  pay  her  a  long  visit.  "  She  was 
engaged  to  Mr.  Crieff,"  she  said,  "  and  she  expected 
Annie  to  come  and  help  her  a  little  with  her  marriage 
outfit." 

So  quite  a  new  element  came  into  the  Brodicks' 
life.  Frequent  letters  were  sent  and  received,  and 
the  Deacon  began  to  visit  the  city  with  some  kind  of 
regularity.  Annie  also  accepted  the  renewed  offer 
of  friendship  gratefully;  she  knew  that  Marion 
would  be  a  possible  outgait  if  a  step-mother  should 
ever  be  set  over  her;  and  she  wrote  to  her  confi- 
dentially of  the  sorrow  that  had  come  to  her  through 
Roy,  and  of  the  still  closer  sorrow  darkening  her 
horizon. 

As  the  weeks  went  on,  the  Deacon  grew  more  and 
more  infatuated  with  the  Glasgow  Sabbaths,  and 
after  every  visit  pleaded  covertly,  or  openly,  the  de- 
sirability of  Annie  marrying  the  Minister;  but  with 
all  a  woman's  contradiction  she  set  herself  against 


198  The    Hands  of   Compulsion 

him.  She  finally  refused  to  show  any  pleasure  in 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Saunders'  Kirk,  or  manse,  or  mother, 
though  she  really  did  enjoy  her  father's  description 
of  the  fine  dining-room,  and  the  Minister's  study, 
and  the  rich  people  whose  worship  he  directed.  "  I 
am  a  bit  weary  of  Mr.  Saunders  and  his  greatness, 
father,"  she  would  say;  "  I  like  better  to  hear  o' 
the  famous  folk  you  meet  at  Dr.  Balmuto's,  and 
about  Marion  and  Mr.  Crieff.  Has  he  still  got  *  The 
Settlement'  on  his  brain  or  heart?" 

"  I  fear  it  was  just  a  passing  experiment  with  him. 
There  is  nobody  in  the  world  but  Marion  Balmuto 
now — it  is  maybe  a  pity — one  can't  tell.  I  am  not 
in  favor  of  deviations  in  Kirk  matters." 

The  Summer  was  not  a  very  happy  one.  The 
Deacon's  Glasgow  friends  were  scattered,  and  he 
did  not  go  much  to  the  city.  True,  he  got  letters, 
and  Annie  could  always  tell  when  one  had  arrived. 
"  We  had  Mr.  Saunders,  and  all  that  belongs  to  him, 
for  dinner  and  supper  yesterday,"  she  would  com- 
plain to  Mrs.  Lochrigg,  and  that  lady,  sniffing 
angrily,  would  "  wish  Mr.  Saunders  in  a  better  place 
than  this  world,  and  no  harm  in  the  wish,"  and  would 
add,  "  for  he  is  aye  talking  about  its  advantages  and 
blessedness.  Are  you  intending  to  marry  the  little 
man  at  the  long  last?" 


A   Little   Too    Late  199 

"  No,  never !  Have  you  heard  anything  of  Roy, 
Aunt?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  God  knows — no  one  else  does." 

"Lam  miserable  about  him." 

"  So  am  I,  dearie." 

"  If  Will  was  at  home,  he  would  find  him." 

"Ay,  but  Will  is  in  the  Chinese  seas,  and  he  is 
coming  back  by  Australia.  It  may  be  a  year  ere  Will 
wins  home — and  till  he  gets  home  he  is  bound  to  his 
ship." 

"  I  know." 

"What  can  we  do?" 

"  Pray — and  leave  Roy  to  Them." 

With  the  Autumn  the  Deacon's  visits  to  Glasgow 
became  more  frequent,  and  on  his  return  from  one 
in  the  middle  of  October  he  said  to  Annie,  "  Mr. 
Saunders  is  going  to  be  married.  You  are  bid  to 
the  wedding." 

"Mr.  Saunders!" 

"  Ay.  You  have  missed  that  fine  opportunity, 
and  you  will  never  have  another  to  match  it." 

She  was  much  annoyed.  She  had  been  for  three 
years  so  sure  of  this  man's  loyal  affection,  and  per- 
haps there  lay  deep  in  her  consciousness  a  thought, 


2OO  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

a  shadowy  possibility,  that  she  might  some  day,  yet 
a  long  time  off,  listen  to  his  wooing.  And  he  had 
forgotten  her.  She  laughed  scornfully,  and  asked: 

"  What  kind  of  a  lassie  is  to  wear  my  old  shoes?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  her,"  answered  Brodick,  "  but 
his  mother  is  fairly  set  up  with  her.  She  says  she 
is  bonnie  enough,  and  only  a  young  thing  not  eighteen 
years  old.  Her  father  has  given  her  five  thousand 
pounds  as  a  set  off." 

"  She  might  have  got  more  for  her  money.  Is 
she  a  Glasgow  girl?" 

"  Ay,  but  they  met  at  St.  Andrews.  She  was  sum- 
mering there,  and  he  was  on  a  visit  to  his  old  col- 
lege. It  had  to  be,  I  suppose.  They  are  to  be 
married  in  three  weeks,  and  you  will  need  a  fine 
dress  for  the  occasion." 

"  I  cannot  go,  father.  Do  not  ask  me.  It  is  just 
impossible  at  this  time." 

"Why  at  this  time?" 

"  Roy  disappeared  last  week.  No  one  knows 
whether  he  is  dead  or  alive." 

41  What  has  he  been  doing  now?  " 

"  Father,  why  will  you  think  wrong  without  rea- 
son? There  is  nothing  against  him." 

"Has  Sarah  heard  from  him?" 

"  Not  yet.     Her  brother  sent  her  word." 


A   Little   Too    Late  201 

"When  did  Roy  go?" 

"Go!     Go  where?" 

"  He  must  have  gone  somewhere." 

"  He  may  have  been  killed." 

"  Nonsense !     Parf  ect  nonsense !  " 

"  Or  killed  himself.  Sarah  says  he  has  had  a  deal 
of  trouble  lately." 

"  Trouble !  naturally.  I  only  hope  when  he  is 
found,  or  heard  tell  of,  that  he  won't  bring  more 
trouble  to  Sarah.  I  don't  see  what  you  have  to  do 
with  that  fellow's  whereabouts.  I  am  not  liking 
.you  speaking  his  name  in  my  presence.  For  any 
sake,  don't  begin  another  year's  mourning.  I  can't 
thole  it,  Annie!  I  can't,  and  I  won't!  I  saw  as 
soon  as  I  entered  the  door  you  were  looking  sick,  and 
not  like  yoursel'  again.  And  I'm  telling  you,  that 
it  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  make  yoursel'  sick  and 
auld-looking  for  a  worthless,  wicked  man." 

"  He  was  my  promised  husband.  I  have  a  right 
to  make  myself  sick  and  ugly  for  him,  if  I  want  to." 
'  You  have  not.  The  laws  of  the  body — its 
health  and  happiness — are  as  much  God's  laws  as 
any  other.  Forbye,  if  you  even  had  the  right  to  in- 
jure, and  make  yoursel'  wretched,  you  have  not  the 
right  to  injure  and  make  me  wretched.  Why  was 
my  house  made  beautiful,  if  you  turn  it  into  a  place 


202  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

of  mourning  and  tears?  Dust  and  ashes  over  every- 
thing would  have  been  more  fitting.  And  all  for  a 
man  reprobate  and  contemptible,  and  not  worth  one 
loving  thought  from  any  good  woman." 

"  I  loved  Roy.     I  love  him  yet." 

Then  the  long-suffering  father  rose  from  the  table, 
and  in  tones  of  passionate  sorrow  and  anger  cried 
aloud — "  My  God!  My  God!  how  can  I  bear  this? 
It  is  too  much!  It  is  beyond  all — but  thy  mercy." 
His  voice  broke,  and  at  the  last  sentence  fell  to  an 
intense  whisper. 

Annie  was  terrified.  Never  had  she  seen  a  man 
under  such  strain  and  excitement.  In  her  father  such 
emotion  was  an  incredible  thing.  She  ran  to  him, 
clung  to  him,  and  with  words  drowned  in  sobs 
begged  him  to  forgive  her.  "  I  was  a  wicked  woman 
to  name  my  trouble,"  she  said.  "  I  have  tried,  oh, 
father,  I  have  tried  to  forget  it,  for  your  sake.  I 
will  never  speak  that  name  again  in  your  presence. 
I  will  not,  father.  I  will  be  good,  indeed  I  will! 
Come  and  finish  your  tea.  If  you  do  not,  you  will 
break  my  heart."  She  led  him  back  to  his  chair, 
and  with  a  kiss  promised  she  would  try  and  weep 
no  more. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  lass,"  he  answered,  "  if  you 
knew  all,  you  would  be  praying  for  him,  instead  of 
weeping  after  him." 


A   Little   Too   Late  203 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,  father,  and  then 
we  will  never  name  the  subject  again.  Jane  Forsyjh 
told  me  yesterday  that  most  people  excused  the  tak- 
ing of  the  letter.  Some  think  it  was  only  taken  to 
tease  his  brother,  but  that  when  he  found  out  Will 
was  going  to  leave  him,  he  kept  the  letter,  to  keep 
Will.  Some  think  the  evidence  against  him  not 
clear.  Lucky  Hislop  is  old,  nearly  blind,  and  very 
lazy;  perhaps  Lucky " 

"  Lucky  is  not  to  blame,  the  thief  was  his  ain  ac- 
cuser to  you." 

"  Yes,  father,  about  that  weary  letter.  But  he 
told  me  positive,  and  offered  to  swear  to  it,  that 
he  did  not  blacken  our  name  on  Will's  boat.  I  be- 
lieve that  he  spoke  the  truth." 

"  I  know  that  he  lied,  and  it  seems  then,  that  he 
was  ready  to  swear  to  the  lie.  I  have  the  most  posi- 
tive evidence  that  he  did  black  out  the  name  o' 
Annie  Brodick.  I  did  not  tell  you  of  it,  for  you 
were  in  sair  trouble  at  the  time,  and  God  knows,  my 
dear  bairn,  I  would  not  add  a  straw's  weight  to  your 


sorrow." 


"  You  were  good  to  me,  and  patient  with  me, 
father,  but  now  having  said  so  much,  you  be  to  tell 
me  all  you  know." 

"  Very  weel,  I  will.  Maybe  it  is  the  right  time 
to  do  so.  There  is  little  good  in  saying  smooth 


204  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

words  when  the  bitter  truth  is  required.  This,  then, 
is  the  very  truth,  Annie : 

"  One  day  last  Autumn  I  met  the  Widow  Gibson 
coming  to  the  house  for  me.  She  said  her  little 
Andrew  was  dying,  and  could  not  win  away  until 
he  could  speak  with  me.  The  poor  lad,  you  ken, 
Annie,  is  an  innocent,  one  o'  God's  bairns,  and 
though  he  had  little  sense  everybody  loved  him.  I 
went  with  his  mother  to  his  bedside.  He  said  he 
had  done  a  great  sin — the  poor  sinless  laddie!  and 
he  wanted  to  put  the  wrong  right,  then  he  wouldna 
be  feared  that  God  would  be  angry  'wi'  him.  And 
when  I  asked  him  what  the  wrong  was,  he  confessed 
that  he  had  watched  Roy  Morrison  black  his 
brother's  boat  name,  and  had  taken  a  big  silver 
penny  from  Roy,  not  to  tell  any  one  about  it.  He 
said,  too,  that  he  was  feared  of  Roy,  who  had  threat- 
ened him  with  many  awful  deaths  if  he  said  a  word. 
He  then  told  where  the  big  silver  penny  was  hid, 
and  asked  me  to  put  it  in  the  Kirk  plate  for  the 
poor.  So  his  mother  went  for  the  money " 

"Did  she  find  it?" 

"  Ay,  she  found  it.  It  was  hid  in  a  wee  box 
among  the  thatch  o*  the  cottage,  and  she  brought  it 
to  the  dying  lad,  and  he  put  it  into  my  hand  with 
fingers  that  were  almost  clay.  And  I  promised  him 


A   Little   Too   Late  205 

all  he  asked,  and  prayed  wi'  him ;  and  he  went  away 
smiling  like  those  that  die  dreaming  of  heaven." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  father;  he  has  had  a 
sorrowful,  painful  life." 

"  Then  I  looked  at  the  big  siller  penny,  and  it 
was  a  false  crown  piece,  not  worth  a  bawbee;  and 
when  I  got  home  I  threw  it  in  the  fire." 

"Father!" 

"  Ay,  I  threw  it  in  the  fire,  but  the  next  Sabbath 
I  put  a  true  honest  crown  in  the  Kirk  plate  for  the 
little  laddie,  then  in  heaven.  But  I  told  you  noth- 
ing at  all,  for  at  the  particular  time  you  were  but 
a  bruised  reed,  and  I  did  not  want  to  hang  your  head 
still  lower.  And  I  spoke  to  his  mother  also,  and 
bid  her  let  the  matter  rest  between  herself  and  my- 
self, and  she  said,  *  The  matter  lies  between  us  two, 
Deacon,  I  will  pass  it  no  further.'  Do  you  now  be- 
lieve that  Roy  was  innocent?" 

"  Alas,  I  must  believe  the  very  worst !  I  know 
well  that  wee  Andrew  would  not  lie,  and  him  at  the 
point  of  death.  But,  father,  I  feel  as  if  there  was  only 
an  abyss  before  me.  Everything  is  drifting  away, 
there  is  no  ground  to  stand  on." 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  the  Deacon  in  a  kind  of 
ecstasy,  "  well,  then,  Annie,  there  is  a  sure  founda- 
tion, and  you  know  what  it  is.  My  dear  bairn,  it 


206  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

is  the  ground  we  do  not  tread  on  which  supports 
us: — 

"  '  The  deep  below  the  deep, 

And  the  height  beyond  the  height, 
Where  our  hearing  is  not  hearing, 
And  our  seeing  is  not  sight.' " 

This  was  the  beginning  of  forgetfulness.  For 
after  little  Andrew's  confession,  every  possible  ex- 
cuse for  sentimental  sorrow  was  taken  away  from 
Annie,  and  she  gradually  got  the  mastery  over  her- 
self. And  whether  we  will,  or  not,  time,  appointed 
by  God  for  the  consolation  of  all  grief,  does  obliter- 
ate and  heal.  And  as  soon  as  Annie  Brodick  know- 
ingly and  consciously  turned  her  face  to  "  the  hills 
from  which  cometh  our  help"  she  was  comforted; 
comforted  in  prayer,  in  sleep,  in  work,  in  all  her 
household  ways,  until  her  sorrow  was  nearly  a  tale 
of  old  unhappy  far-off  things.  Then  she  realized 
how  foolish  it  had  been,  and  how  utterly  useless, 
since  all  her  tears  and  fond  regrets  could  never 
make, 

"  the   grass   to    grow, 
On  the  trampled  meadows  of  long  ago." 


CHAPTER   TEN 

THE  DEACON  MARRIES  AGAIN 

ABOUT  Christmas  Mr.  Saunders  was  married,  and 
Annie  received  wedding  cards  tied  together  with 
white  satin  ribbons,  and  her  portion  of  the  wedding 
cake  in  a  little  silvered  box.  She  looked  at  the  sym- 
bols scornfully,  and  then  put  them  out  of  her  sight. 
"  I  will  not  ask  father  a  single  question,  about  either 
bride  or  groom,"  she  said.  "  I  am  caring  nothing 
about  them — one  way  or  another.  I  wonder  if  Mar- 
ion was  there.  If  so,  she  will  be  sure  to  tell  jne  all  I 
want  to  hear." 

The  Deacon  seemed  to  have  come  to  the  same 
resolution.  His  face  and  manner  indicated  a  highly 
successful  visit,  but  he  respected  or  resented  his 
daughter's  apparent  indifference,  and  did  not  trouble 
her  with  any  of  the  details  of  it.  Still  he  talked  to 
others,  and  through  others  Annie  learned  how  the 
bride  was  dressed,  what  company  were  present,  and 
the  immediate  intentions  of  the  newly  married  pair. 

"  Your  father  itemized  every  particular  to  Leslie 
Kerr,"  said  Mrs.  Lochrigg  with  laughing  contempt. 

207 


208  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Not  a  bow  or  a  button  escaped  him.  I  met  Les- 
lie coming  from  the  shop  yestreen,  and  I  asked  her 
if  she  had  been  to  the  wedding,  and  she  told  me  all 
about  it.  A  friend  o'  hers,  she  said,  had  been  there, 
and  observed  it  circumstantially.  So  I  questioned  her 
dry,  and  she  answered  free  as  a  schoolgirl,  adding 
her  own  remarks  forbye — but  they  are  too  silly  to 
pass  over  to  you." 

"Have  they  gone  away?  Mr.  Saunders  was  aye 
talking  of  a  visit  to  London." 

"  Mr.  Saunders  has  just  settled  down  in  his  own 
home  with  his  wife.  They  are  a  sensible  Jack  and 
Jill.  He  preached  his  own  Kirking  sermon  from  his 
own  pulpit.  A  sagacious,  prudent  man.  Leslie  told 
me  your  father  stood  up  with  him  at  the  ceremony, 
and  that  the  young  minister  depends  on  his  advice; 
respecting  him,  and  trusting  him  above  all  his 
friends.  Weel,  a  prophet  has  no  honor  among  his 
own  folk,  and  nobody  in  Arran  had  found  out  Rob- 
ert Brodick's  wonderful  gifts  till  Mr.  Saunders 


came." 


"  You  must  not  say  that,  Aunt  Lochrigg.  Every- 
one is  respecting  and  relying  on  father  here." 

"  To  be  sure.  Your  father  is  parfect  humanity — 
specially  among  the  women  folk." 

After  this  event  the  Winter  wore  away  not  un- 


The   Deacon  Marries  Again          209 

pleasantly,  though  Annie  was  sensible  that  some  in- 
definable change  had  taken  place  in  her  home.  The 
Deacon,  though  as  affectionate  as  ever,  was  differ- 
ent. His  comings  and  goings  had  lost  their  regu- 
larity. She  saw  him  on  the  street  twice  with  Leslie 
Kerr,  and  she  knew  that  he  had  begun  to  attend  the 
Kirk's  social  meetings,  and  even  the  "  incredible 
misery  "  of  at  least  one  musical  entertainment.  On 
that  occasion  she  had  seen  him  talking  to  Miss 
Grizelda  Binnie,  and  Miss  Grizelda  herself  had 
been  one  of  the  performers.  She  had  watched  his 
face  during  Miss  Grizelda's  singing  of  The  Cove- 
nanter's Lament,  and  been  amazed  at  its  emotion,  for 
she  gave  the  credit  of  this  emotion  to  the  singer, 
though  it  really  belonged  to  the  pathetic  melody  and 
mournful  words  of  the  ancient  lament.  It  was  his 
soul  he  heard  singing,  as  if  indeed  it  remembered 
every  note  of  the  music,  and  every  word  of  the  song. 
And  with  this  strange  intuitive  knowledge,  the  ex- 
quisite second-sight  of  memory  showed  him  the 
Covenanting  martyrs  praying  in  the  wilderness,  and 
fighting  on  the  battle  field  for  The  Word  they  loved 
dearer  than  life.  No  wonder  then  that  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  that  he  stood  up  with  the  men  to 
emphasize  their  undying  veneration  for  the  princi- 
ples and  the  martyrs  of  whom  Miss  Binnie  sang—* 


2io  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"There's    nae    Cov'nant    noo,    lassie, 

There's   nae   Cov'nant  noo, 
The  holy  League  and  Cov'nant 
Is  a'  broken  through. 

"There's  nae  Renwick  noo,  lassie, 

Nor  good  and  great  Cargill, 
Nor  holy   Sabbath  preaching 
Upon  the  Martyrs'   Hill." 

Annie  had  been  too  instensely  absorbed  in  her  per- 
sonal observations  and  feelings  to  understand  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  audience,  for  men .  and  deeds  in 
the  backward  centuries.  It  was  her  father's  love 
affairs  she  was  considering,  and  not  the  men  of  the 
Bible  and  the  sword,  fighting  as  they  prayed,  and 
praying  as  they  fought. 

But  she  made  no  untoward  remarks.  When  her 
father  praised  Miss  Binnie's  singing,  she  conceded 
its  excellence  without  apparent  grudging;  but  she 
did  not  sleep  much  that  night,  and  early  in  the 
morning  she  went  to  see  Mrs.  Lochrigg. 

"  Aunt,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Very  good.  I'll  lift  my  darning  and  take  a  few 
stitches  while  you  do  so.  Were  you  at  the  musical 
last  night?" 

"  Yes.    I  did  not  see  you  there." 

"What  for  would  I  be  there?" 

"What  for  not?" 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          211 

"  If  I  could  shut  my  ears,  as  well  as  my  eyes,  I 
might  thole  the  noise.  But  I  canna." 

"  Miss  Grizelda  Binnie  sang  a  song  about  the 
Covenanters,  and  fairly  wiled  my  father's  heart 
away." 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder.  The  Brodicks  were  all 
Covenanters,  bibles  in  their  belts,  swords  in  their 
hands.  That  little  lass  o'  Balmuto's  would  testify 
that  he  was  just  remembering  some  of  his  past  lives. 
I  wouldn't  daur  to  say  different." 

"  He  was  thinking  o'  this  present  life.  I  feel  sure 
he  will  marry  that  auld  maid,  and  just  for  a  song. 
Men  are  queer." 

"  Ay,  it  is  a  small  thing  catches  them — a  song  on 
the  lips,  a  glint  o'  the  eyes,  a  pawkey  smile,  a  tidy 
ankle,  a  bit  o'  bright  ribbon, — or  maybe  nothing 
but  a  few  gold  pieces.  Weel,  weel,  that's  the  way 
it  is  ordered." 

"  It  may  be  so,  but  if  my  father  is  going  to  make 
a  fool  of  himself  in  his  old  age,  I  must  get  out  of 
the  way  of  it.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  him  playing 
the  fond,  silly  lover  to  Grizel  Binnie;  and  her  sitting 
in  my  mother's  place.  The  position  is  fairly  un- 
thinkable, and  I  will  not  stay  here  and  see  it." 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Annie,  your  father  will 
never  play  the  silly  lover.  Don't  you  think  it.  He 


212  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

— * 

will  be  as  discreet  and  dignified  as  if  he  was  carry- 
ing roung  the  Kirk  box  for  the  collection.  And  no 
woman  can  ever  take  your  mother's  place.  The  first 
wife  is  never  second,  or  second-rate.  The  second 
wife  in  this  case  is  o'  your  own  summoning." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  tell  me  that.  I  know  it.  I 
want  your  advice  about  the  future." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  I 
was  hearing  young  Carrick — the  Duke's  private 
minister — was  sick  in  love  with  you,  and  dogging 
your  steps,  and  sending  you  hot-house  flowers,  and 
making  himself  pleasant  to  your  father  in  many  ways 
— shooting  and  fishing  privileges  and  the  like  o' 
them — getting  favors  from  the  Duke,  ye  ken.  Losh, 
lassie !  You  seem  to  be  a  parfect  temptation  to  the 
ministers." 

"  Do  be  quiet,  Aunt.  You  Know  my  heart  is  with 
Roy,  wherever  he  may  be.  It  is  not  of  lovers  I  want 
to  talk." 

"Of  what,  then?" 

"  Making  my  living." 

"Oh!"— with  a  decided  sniff. 

"  I  have  been  preparing  for  this  event  all  Winter." 

"  I  believe  you.  If  there's  a  prudent  lass  in 
Arran,  Annie  Brodick  is  her  name.  Now,  then,  I 
would  like  to  know  how  you  have  been  preparing." 


The  Deacon  Marries   Again          213 

"  I  have  been  writing  constant  to  Miss  Balmuto, 
in  the  first  place." 

"  If  you  are  preparing  for  another  world — they 
say  it's  a  better  world — Marion  is  as  good  a  director 
as  you'll  find,  but  if  you  are  thinking  o'  living  out 
your  seventy  years  in  this  world,  I  fear  she'll  lead 
you  among  mists  and  moors  and  will-o'-the-wisps." 

'  You  are  mistaken,  Aunt.  Marion  has  a  clear, 
f  arseeing  mind  about  this  world.  She  gave  me  good 
advice,  and  I  am  going  to  take  it." 

"Then  what  for  are  you  taking  up  my  time?" 

"  This  way — if  you  endorse  Marion's  advice,  I 
shall  go  forward  with  double  confidence — and  if  you 
do  not  endorse  it,  I  shall  go  forward  with  tenfold 
caution." 

"  I  see.    Speak  your  mind." 

!<  When  father  marries,  I  am  going  to  Glasgow. 
I  will  not  look  the  second  Mrs.  Brodick  in  the  face. 
I  do  not  want  to  know  her  name  or  anything  about 
her.  I  am  going  to  rent  a  handsome  first  floor  in 
some  West-End  street  or  Crescent  and  open  it  for 
fashionable  dressmaking." 

"  Preserve  us !  Annie." 

"  Miss  Balmuto  has  promised  me  all  her  work  and 
influence.  I  know  that  I  have  a  good  business  ready 
to  lift.  I  know  where  I  can  get  a  first-class  fitter, 


214  The    Hands  of   Compulsion 

and  an  artistic  trimmer,  and  I  have  both  skill  and 
taste  myself." 

"And  the  money  necessary?" 

"  I  have  it.  My  mother  gave  me  four  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds  not  long  before  she  died.  It 
was  all  her  own.  Her  mother  left  her  two  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds,  quiet-like,  and  she  made  it  up  to 
four  hundred  and  twenty  pounds.  She  put  it  into 
my  hands  one  day,  and  after  her  death  I  put  it  in 
the  Bank  of  Scotland,  and  there  it  is  to-day.  It  is 
all  my  own,  mother  gave  me  it." 

"Quiet-like?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  promised  her  to  keep  it  quiet-like  for 
some  emergency.  She  said  every  woman  ought  to 
have  a  bit  of  security  in  some  good  bank,  for  hus- 
bands were  sometimes  untrustworthy  securities." 

"  And  you  let  Roy  go  to  the  mischief  for  the  want 
o'  siller?  You  miserly  cutty,  why  didn't  you  help 
him?" 

"  Four  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  would  have 
been  no  help  to  Roy,  and  he  would  have  made  it  a 
total  loss  to  me.  Do  you  think  I  would  buy  a  hus- 
band? It  was  Roy's  duty  to  make  an  income  and 
a  home.  If  he  could  not  do  it  before  we  were  mar- 
ried, he  never  would  have  done  it  after.  Little  Roy 
would  have  thought  of  my  grandmother's  and  my 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          21$ 

mother's  hard  savings  for  fifty  years.  He  would 
have  flung  them  away  in  as  many  days.  But  even 
so,  I  could  not  give  Roy  the  money — my  solemn 
promise  to  my  dear  mother  bound  me.  You  would 
not  have  trusted  Roy  yourself  with  four  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds." 

"  You  are  right.  I  would  not.  Go  on." 
"  I  have  told  you  my  plan.  I  am  ready  any  day 
to  carry  it  out,  and  Marion  is  ready  to  help  me.  I 
have  a  list  of  the  ladies  who  will  patronize  '  The 
Brodick  Fashion  Rooms/  and  to  be  plain  with  you, 
Aunt,  I  wish  now  that  father  would  marry  the 
woman  he  wants,  and  let  me  go  free,  and  make  the 
money  I  know  I  can  make.  If  I  need  more  capital, 
Marion  says  she  will  be  glad  to  invest  a  few  hun- 
dred pounds  with  me." 

"  She  will  do  nothing  o'  the  kind.  When  a  good 
chance  comes  my  way,  I  am  not  going  to  let  Marion 
Balmuto  fish  in  my  loch.  I  have  five  hundred 
pounds  that  is  not  earning  its  salt — three  per  cent., 
and  no  more — and  I  will  be  your  partner,  if  you'll 
take  in  a  capable,  careful  woman  like  myself.  The 
firm  will  be  called  '  Lochrigg  and  Brodick  Fashion- 
able Modistes  and  Drapers.'  We  will  hang  a  few 
rich  silks  and  laces  in  the  front  windows  to  speak 
for  us.  Losh,  lassie!  we  will  do  a  quiet,  dignified 


216  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

business  that  will  gie  us  twenty  per  cent.,  maybe 
fifty  per  cent.,  for  our  money.  Are  you  willing?  " 

"  I  am  more  than  willing.  I  am  delighted  and 
very  grateful  to  you." 

"  Lochrigg  and  Brodick !  Good  names  both  o' 
them.  They'll  look  fine  on  a  big  brass  plate  on  the 
door.  Now  tell  me  about  your  fitter  and  trimmer, 
and  whatever  other  arrangements  you  have  made." 

"I  will;  also,  I  can  show  you  the  list  of  ladies 
who  have  promised  to  give  us  their  business — they 
are  the  cream  and  honey  of  Dr.  Buchanan's  fine 
Kirk." 

In  the  discussion  that  followed  Annie  was  cool 
and  calm,  and  full  of  business  acumen  and  compo- 
sure, but  Mrs.  Lochrigg  was  quite  excited  and  even 
speculative.  The  prospect  opened  up  to  the  eager, 
clever  woman  a  new  life,  with  an  almost  certain  as- 
surance of  enlarging  her  interests  and  profits.  She 
would  hardly  let  Annie  go  home,  and  day  after  day 
the  two  women  sat  hours  together,  perfecting  and 
enlarging  their  scheme'.  And  as  it  grew  in  magni- 
tude, Mrs.  Lochrigg's  enthusiasm  kept  pace  with  it, 
so  that  when  the  time  came  for  its  realization,  she 
was  quite  ready  to  make  her  five  hundred  pounds  a 
thousand. 

Indeed,  she  began  to  grow  restless  about  the  Deacon 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          217 

"  shilly-shallying  among  three  middle-aged  women 
who  all  knew  their  own  minds,  if  he  would  only  find 
out  where  to  throw  the  offer  o'  himsel' ; "  and  her 
first  inquiry,  whenever  she  saw  Annie,  was,  "  What 
way  is  the  wind  blowing  now,  Annie?  Kerr — Binnie 
— or  McLean?  Give  me  patience  wi'  such  a  lover  as 
Robert  Brodick!  He  is  as  hard  to  tie  to  a  woman 
as  if  this  was  his  first  experience." 

But  Robert  Brodick  was  not  a  man  to  be  hurried 
in  such  an  important  matter  as  the  selection  of  a 
wife.  And  after  Mr.  Saunders'  marriage  his  atten- 
tion to  the  two  widows  and  to  Miss  Binnie  seemed 
rather  to  slacken  than  to  increase.  Then  the  Sum- 
mer brought  boarders  and  larger  business,  and  An- 
nie began  to  wonder  if  there  was  any  truth  or  any 
serious  intention  in  her  father's  courtesy  to  the 
women  with  whom  his  name  had  been  associated. 

"  I  think  he  has  become  frightened,  Aunt  Sarah," 
she  said.  "  Perhaps  the  Minister  is  not  as  happy 
as  he  expected  to  be,  and  father  thinks  he  had  bet- 
ter let  well  enough  alone." 

"  And  would  you  give  up  such  an  opportunity  as 
we  have  for  a  bit  o'  prudential  selfishness  on  your 
father's  part?'* 

"  What  else  could  I  do  ?  As  long  as  father  de- 
pends on  me,  I  cannot  leave  him  alone." 


218  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Parfect  nonsense !  I'll  not  hear  tell  o'  you  sit- 
ting wi'  idle  hands  here  when  you  could  be  making 
money  with  every  finger  you  have  in  Glasgow.  I'll 
never  forgive  you,  Annie,  if  you  disappoint  me  in 
this  matter.  Mind  that !  " 

"  I  would  be  sorry  if  I  had  to  do  so,  Aunt." 

The  words  arrested  her  attention,  and  as  soon  as 
she  was  alone  she  began  to  ask  herself  if  they  were 
honest  words.  Would  she  be  sorry  to  abandon  her 
plan?  Would  she  be  glad  to  retain  her  father's 
whole  affection,  and  her  place  as  mistress  of  his 
house?  Which  condition  did  she  really  desire? 
She  tried  hard  to  reach  the  verity  that  is  in  the  in- 
ward part  about  this  matter,  shirking  no  like  or  dis- 
like, trying  every  point  of  it,  by  an  absolute  demand 
for  the  truth.  And  she  was  forced  to  confess  that 
she  would  be  sorry  to  relinquish  her  business  scheme, 
that  she  would  rather  work  it  out  to  success,  than 
potter  about  Brodick  House  looking  after  the 
homely  duties  her  position  as  its  mistress  demanded. 

In  fact,  she  was  aware  of  a  certain  anxiety  because 
her  father  and  the  Widow  Kerr  seemed  less  intimate, 
and  because  he  had  not  lately  spoken  of  Miss  Bin- 
nie's  fine  singing,  or  Mrs.  McLean's  generous  gifts 
to  the  Kirk.  Had  he  withdrawn  himself  from. the 
danger  of  matrimony  and  gone  back  to  his  old  con- 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          219 

tentment  with  life?  And  were  things  to  remain  as 
they  were,  as  long  as  he  lived,  or  she  was  unmar- 
ried? She  shrank  from  the  prospect,  and  admitted 
the  shrinking. 

As  yet,  however,  Brodick  showed  few  signs  of 
returning  to  the  simple  life  which  had  once  satisfied 
him.  He  still  went  more  frequently  to  the  city  than 
his  business  required.  He  wrote  many  letters,  and 
was  always  anxious  about  the  post,  and  Annie  re- 
membered well  the  days  in  which  he  hardly  ever 
wrote  a  letter,  unless  it  was  an  order  for  goods. 
She  did  not  grudge  him  his  correspondence  with  Mr. 
Saunders  and  Professor  Balmuto,  for  the  privilege 
seemed  to  make  him  exceedingly  happy;  what 
chiefly  troubled  her  was  that  she  had  lost  her  influ- 
ence over  him,  and  with  it,  his  perfect  confidence. 
He  talked  little  to  her,  no  longer  came  for  her 
sympathy,  no  longer  explained  to  her  his  small  per- 
plexities, hopes  and  plans,  hardly  ever  told  her  the 
bits  of  news  or  gossip  he  heard  over  his  counter,  and 
she  asked  herself  sadly,  "  If  Roy's  love  had  ever 
been  worth  the  price  she  had  paid  for  it?  " 

The  Summer  passed  rather  wearily.  There  was 
no  active  discomfort,  and  no  real  enjoyment.  It  was 
hard  work  sometimes  to  bring  the  cheerful  morning 
face  to  the  breakfast  room,  to  make  the  place  bright 


22O  The   Hands,  of   Compulsion 

and  comfortable,  and  set  the  table  day  after  day 
with  a  dainty  nicety  no  one  seemed  to  notice.  That 
was  the  sore,  the  slowly  deepening  sore,  that  hurt 
Annie  most  of  all — her  father's  indifference  to  all 
her  efforts  to  please  him.  True,  she  had  at  one  time 
treated  all  his  efforts  to  please,  or  comfort  her,  with 
the  same  indifference;  but  oh,  surely,  a  father's  love 
should  forget,  as  well  as  forgive!  Brodick,  how- 
ever, evidently  feared  to  put  himself  near  enough  to 
his  daughter  to  be  wounded  again  by  her  apathy 
and  carelessness. 

"  He's  not  like  a  loving  father,  but  he  is  very  like 
a  prudent  Scot,"  said  Mrs.  Lochrigg,  "  and  by  what 
I  can  make  out  from  a  dozen  gossips,  he  has  be- 
come a  monumental  similitude  o'  prudence  and  po- 
liteness to  the  hale  feminine  creation.  But  I  have 
news  that  may  hurry  him  a  bit,  for  I  heard  scarce  an 
hour  ago  that  Miss  Binnie  was  married  last  week 
at  the  Bridge  of  Allan,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
that  fact  sends  your  father  to  the  ring  and  the  Min- 
ister in  double-quick  time.  He'll  want  to  show  the 
Kirk  full,  and  the  town  full,  that  he  was  never  think- 
ing o'  Grizelda  Binnie — that  would  be  a  man's  way 
— and  Robert  Brodick,  though  a  deacon,  is  only  a 


man." 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          221 

"  Grizelda  Binnie  married!    Who  to,  Aunt?  " 

"  To  a  curate  o'  the  Episcopal  persuasion,  no  less, 
and  no  mair.  Think  o'  it  I  A  born  and  baptized 
Calvinist,  married  at  the  very  horns  o'  the  Episcopal 
altar!  I'm  doubting  if  it  is  a  lawful  ceremony." 

"  I  did  not  see  it  in  the  papers." 

"  It  was  in  the  papers,  sure  enough,  just  like  any 
tailor's  or  weaver's;  but  it  was  Jean  Fidler  that  told 
me.  She  has  a  fourth  cousin  at  the  Bridge  of  Allan, 
and  this  cousin  wrote  the  particulars  to  Jean's 
mother;  and  by  that  way  it  came  to  me.  She  testi- 
fied to  the  truth  o'  it.  I  asked  if  the  full  Episcopal 
ceremony  was  used,  and  she  said  *  no  deviation  was 
observed  on  the  occasion.'  Now  it  is  your  father's 
turn;  he  is  sure  to  show  folk  he  had  no  intention  o' 
making  Miss  Binnie  the  second  Mrs.  Brodick." 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Lochrigg  was  right,  and  perhaps  it 
was  only  a  coincidence,  but  it  was  hardly  three  days 
after  this  conversation  when  an  eventful  one  on  the 
same  subject  took  place.  Annie  was  sitting  at  the 
open  door  sewing  and  crooning  a  song,  and  her 
father  came  and  stood  beside  her.  She  looked  up 
with  a  smile,  and  he  said — > 

"  Annie,  my  dear,  you  be  to  have  a  new  dress. 
There  is  going  to  be  a  wedding  in  the  family." 


222  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"Father!" 

"  Ay,  I  am  going  to  be  married  mysel'  on  the 
seventeenth  o'  this  month." 

"  I  cannot  believe  such  a  thing." 

"Why?" 

"  How  am  I  to  bear  the  like  o'  that?  " 

"Of  what?" 

"  A  strange  woman  in  the  house — mistress,  you 
know — and  where  will  I  be?  It  is  cruel.  How- 
ever could  you  think  of  such  a  thing?  I  am  not  able 
to  bear  it." 

'  You  taught  me  to  think  o'  it.  You,  yoursel', 
Annie,  put  the  thought  o'  marriage,  and  the  necessity 
o'  marriage,  into  my  mind.  You  let  me  see  plainly 
that  I  must  give  you  up  to  Roy  Morrison,  and  live 
my  lane,  or  else  have  a  strange  man  whom  I  disliked 
and  distrusted  always  first  at  my  table  and  fireside. 
If  it  please  God,  my  dear  lassie,  I  may  live  a  quarter 
o'  a  century  yet,  and  I  want  a  friend  and  a  compan- 
ion to  live  with  me.  Because  you  love,  must  I  be 
without  love?" 

"  I  am  always  your  daughter." 

"  Until  you  are  married.  Then  you  are  some 
man's  wife  first  of  all.  I  am  not  complaining.  I 
am  only  looking  forward  to  the  years  that  may  come 
to  me." 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          223 

"  And  who  is  to  be  your  friend  and  companion  ? 
Is  it  Leslie  Kerr?" 

"  I  never  thought  a  moment  o'  Mrs.  Kerr.  I  am 
not  carin'  for  a  frivolous  woman." 

"  Miss  Binnie,  I  hear,  is  married." 

"  I  know.  She  has  been  long*  engaged.  The 
Episcopal  creed  stood  between  her  and  the  man  she 
loved.  I  finally  convinced  her  there  was  no  sin  in 
marrying  out  o'  her  ain  Kirk.  She  has  got  a  good 
man,  ten  years  older  than  hersel'." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  thinking  to  marry  Widow 
McLean?" 

Brodick  smiled  grimly. 

"  When  I  am  tired  o'  peace  and  content  and  good 
days  I  will  marry  the  Widow  McLean,  Annie.  Not 
until." 

'  Then  who  are  you  going  to  marry?  " 

"  Mr.  Saunders'  mother,  a  pleasant,  sensible  wo- 
man, not  many  years  younger  than  I  am.  For  every 
virtue,  she  is  a  woman  in  ten  thousand." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  have  chosen  wisely,  father, 
and  I  have  nothing  to  say.  You  must  do  your  own 
pleasure." 

"  She  is  a  good,  affectionate  woman,  and  you  will 
be  the  better  of  some  one  to  talk  to  you.  I  make 
no  question  but  that  we  shall  all  of  us  be  the  hap- 


224  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

pier  for  her  in  the  house.  How  much  money  will 
you  want  for  a  dress,  and  all  things  fitting?  " 

"  I  want  no  money,  father.  If  I  have  lost  the 
first  place  in  your  heart  and  home,  I  will  not  take 
your  money.  I  do  not  know  Mrs.  Saunders.  I  do 
not  wish  to  know  her.  I  will  not  go  to  see  her  made 
your  wife,  and  my — step-mother.  No,  indeed !  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  fresh  trouble  for  me?  " 

"  No." 

"  We  shall  be  away  three  weeks.  I  expect  you 
will  have  all  pleasant  and  comfortable  for  our  home- 
coming." 

"  I  will  see  to  it." 

"Annie,  can't  you  be  pleasanter  about  the 
change  ?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot." 

"  Weel,  I'm  sorry." 

That  was  all. 

Ten  days  after  this  conversation  the  Deacon  went 
away  with  a  happy  gravity,  that  would  have  become 
a  bridegroom  twenty  years  younger,  and  Annie  went 
dourly  about  the  house,  putting  this  and  that  into 
their  proper  places.  She  was  glad  the  strain  was 
over,  the  last  ten  days  had  been  hard  to  bear.  For 
she  could  not  but  feel  that  she  was  outside  her 
father's  life,  and  that  it  was  beyond  her  power  to 


The  Deacon  Marries   Again          225 

take  in  it  the  place  to  which  his  marriage  would  rele- 
gate her.  So  she  made  no  propositions,  nor  ex- 
pressed any  curiosity,  and  the  Deacon  concluded  she 
had  resolved  to  accept  circumstances  beyond  her  con- 
trol. 

If  he  had  been  in  a  condition  to  examine  himself, 
he  would  never  have  come  to  such  an  easy  solution 
of  his  household  problem.  He  would  have  known 
his  child's  mind  by  his  own  mind,  and  been  certain 
that  the  acceptance  of  a  lower  place  in  his  heart  and 
home  was  an  impossible  compliance  to  her.  The 
cold  calm  of  her  face,  the  poise  of  certainty  in  her 
manner,  the  absence  of  all  apparent  anger,  would 
have  certified  him  that  she  was  ready  for  some  act 
which  would  be  an  adequate  restoration  of  her  self- 
respect  and  welfare.  But  a  man  in  love  is  partially 
a  blind  man;  he  sees  only  in  one  direction,  and 
reasons  only  from  one  premise,  and  at  this  time  his 
daughter  was  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  woman  he 
was  going  to  marry. 

If  Annie  did  not  reason  out  this  condition,  she 
felt  it;  and  having  put  into  order  the  rooms  disar- 
ranged by  the  confusion  of  packing  and  dressing, 
she  sat  down  to  consider  her  circumstances,  stripping 
them  of  all  illusions  that  might  embarrass  or  deceive 
her — displaced  by  a  stranger — thrust  out  from  her 


226  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

father's  love — and  her  life-long  home — forced  into 
the  world  to  make  her  own  home  and  her  own  living 
by  the  cruel  hands  of  a  compelling  fate — she  looked 
the  uttermost  results  squarely  in  the  face  and  flinched 
not.  Far  from  it,  for  having  done  so,  she  rose 
quickly  and  resolutely  to  her  feet: — 

"  I  have  no  time  to  lose,"  she  said.  "  I  must  be 
about  what  I  have  to  do.  My  duty  in  this  house  is 
almost  finished.  I  will  see  Aunt  Sarah,  and  be  away 
to-morrow." 

Just  as  she  reached  this  decision,  Sarah  Lochrigg 
called  her,  and  she  hurriedly  answered  the  summons 
in  person.  "  He  is  gone,"  she  said,  and  the  words 
filled  her  eyes  with  tears,  and  gave  her  a  sense  of 
strangling. 

"  I  know,  Annie.  I  met  him  stepping  down  the 
street  as  if  land  and  water  was  all  his  own.  He  is 
fairly  silly  about  the  woman  he  is  going  for.  I  hope 
he'll  find  her  half — or  a  quarter — o'  what  his  fancy 
paints  her." 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Glasgow  to-morrow,  Aunt,  if 
you  will  do  my  last  duty  for  me." 

"  I  don't  know — what  is  it?  " 

"  He  charged  me  strictly,  to  have  the  house  made 
pretty  and  comfortable  for  their  home-coming  in 
three  weeks  after  the  marriage." 


The   Deacon   Marries   Again          227 

"  Three  weeks !    What  for  three  weeks?  " 

"  They  are  going  to  London." 

"  Preserve  us !  London !  What  will  he  do  in 
London?" 

"  Just  sightseeing." 

"  And  love-making." 

"  Maybe  so." 

"  I  had  a  few  words  with  him,  and  he  asked  me  to 
come  and  comfort  you  a  bit.  He  said  when  your 
new  mother  came " 

"  Hold  there,  Sarah.  I  have  one  mother,  and  to 
me  she  is  not  dead.  She  lives  forever." 

"  Ay,  ay,  but  he  meant  it  kindly.  It  is  to  be  a 
big  wedding,  I  hear — her  son  is  to  marry  them — 
in  his  Kirk — after  the  morning  service — think  o' 
that !  the  whole  congregation  as  witnesses !  " 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it !  I  thought  father  was 
a  shy,  modest-like  man." 

11  He  is  in  the  natural  and  general  way;  but  men 
in  love  are  a  blend  o'  the  bird  called  peacock  and 
the  beast  called  lion.  We  shall  see  the  full  account, 
no  doubt,  in  the  Scotsman,  and  the  rest  o'  the  irre- 
ligious papers." 

"  I  shall  not  read  a  word  of  it.  Now,  Aunt,  take 
my  place  here,  and  put  the  house  in  company  trim, 
and  let  me  go  and  look  after  our  affairs.  We  must 


228  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

open  the  business  in  September,  and  there  is  no  time 
to  lose." 

"  You  are  right.  Go  your  ways  to-morrow,  and 
I'll  sort  everything  here — house  and  table  and  neigh- 
bors' tongues.  And  don't  carry  a  care  out  o'  the 
past  into  the  future.  Leave  every  dark  thought  be- 
hind you." 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  mean  to  do.  It  seems 
father  can  do  without  me ;  well,  then,  I  must  learn  to 
do  without  him." 

"  And  put  a  brave  heart  to  a  steep  hill,  and  you'll 
find  good  fortune  at  the  top  o*  it;  no  doubt  o'  that." 

"  Still,  it  is  hard,  Sarah,  to  feel  that  it  is  your 
father's  hands  that  are  pushing  you  into  the  world." 

"  It  is  a*  good  for  you,  Annie.  You  are  o'er 
narrow;  go  into  the  world,  and  you'll  see  further  in 
a  year  than  you  dream  of  now." 

So  the  next  day  Annie  left  her  home  forever. 
Not  without  sorrowful  prayer  and  bitter  tears;  not 
without  doubts,  and  a  great  sense  of  wrong;  but  yet 
in  the  swirl  and  rush  of  this  tide  of  feeling,  holding 
with  a  steady  hand  the  vestal  fire  of  conscience,  high 
above  the  turbulent  flood.  It  was  a  lovely  day,  and 
the  old  house — that  kept  like  a  book  the  memory  of 
those  who  had  lived  in  it — seemed  at  parting  mo- 
ment inexpressibly  beautiful  and  dear.  Then  some 


The  Deacon  Marries  Again          229 

of  Marion  Balmuto's  teachings  came  into  her  mem- 
ory, and  she  stood  a  minute  with  the  open  gate  in 
her  hand,  and  whispered  to  the  Spirit  of  her  race  and 
family — "Farewell  to  your  pleasant  rooms!  I 
shall  come  back  some  day — if  not  in  this  life,  then  in 
some  other." 

Marion  had  been  informed  of  her  plans,  and  she 
received  an  affectionate  welcome.  And  that  night 
business  was  not  named,  for  the  conversation  drifted 
naturally  to  her  father's  marriage,  and  the  changes 
it  had  made.  And  Annie,  as  yet  uncomforted  by 
Sarah  Lochrigg's  worldlywise  counsels,  and  financial 
help,  laid  bare  to  the  kindly  Professor  all  the  wounds 
of  her  heart.  He  understood  her  grief,  and  saw  in 
it — and  made  Annie  see  in  it — many  compensations. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  the  log  of  this  fleshly  body 
burns  only  when  there  is  sacrifice,  nothing  less  will 
kindle  it  into  flame." 

"  Sir,  I  have  been  compelled  to  sacrifice  everything 
I  love — even  my  home.  For  if  I  had  remained 
there,  offences  must  have  come,  and  my  father  must 
have  stood  with  his  wife.  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
would  have  brought  contention  and  unhappiness  into 
a  happy  home?  " 

"  I  see.  I  see  plainly.  And  to  give  up  your  own 
right  for  the  happiness  of  others  is  a  grand  sacrifice, 


230  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

Annie.  For  you  must  now  find  out  what  care  means, 
and  work,  and  watching,  and  perhaps  injustice  and 
unkindness.  And  in  this  sacrifice,  your  brain  and 
heart,  your  feet  and  hands,  must  take  their  part ;  and 
thus  you  make  of  your  carnal  body  an  acceptable 
sacrifice;  give  all  your  members,  as  it  were,  their 
passion  history;  and  so  imitate  the  Great  Sacrifice, 
which  we  adoringly  remember  and  imitate." 

"  But,  sir,  I  did  not  freely  give  up  my  father,  my 
home,  and  my  life  of  ease  and  leisure.  Forces  I 
could  not  disobey  really  compelled  me  to  resign 
them,  and  this  resignation  was  bitterly  against  my 
will." 

"  Annie,  in  my  seventy  years  of  life  I  have  come 
to  the  absolute  belief  that  all  which  happens  to  a 
child  of  God,  happens  for  the  best.  Whatever  has 
come  to  me,  whatever  has  been  given  to  me,  has 
proved  to  be  the  thing  /  needed,  the  thing  worth 
having.  My  troubles  and  entanglements  have  al- 
ways come  from  my  own  will  and  way,  and  my  own 
choosing.  I  assure  you  that  the  Hands  of  Compul- 
sion are  also  the  Hands  of  Compassion.  They  are 
guiding,  guarding,  giving  Hands.  Put  your  own 
small,  helpless  hands  into  them,  and  you  will  be 
lifted  up  and  strengthened  for  all  you  have  to  do." 

And  then  Marion  sent  a  glance  of  such  heavenly 


The   Deacon  Marries   Again          231 

hope  into  her  friend's  face  that  Annie  could  no 
longer  fear  or  doubt.  The  austere  sweetness  of  sac- 
rifice was  fully  realized,  as  she  sat  alone  that  night. 
She  understood  that  any  life  which  progresses  must 
learn  the  meaning  of  a  crisis — of  turning  points, 
which  raise  material  existence  above  the  process  of 
getting  hungry  and  eating,  and  of  getting  tired  and 
sleeping; — redeeming  events,  which  set  afresh  the 
rudder  of  conduct,  and  lift  daily  life  into  wider 
horizons,  and  loftier  experiences. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 
ANNIE'S  NEW  LIFE 

AT  the  end  of  the  three  weeks  nominated,  the  Deacon 
and  his  bride  came  home.  The  old  place  was  in  all 
its  Autumn  glory,  and  at  the  open  door  Mrs.  Loch- 
rigg  stood,  with  beaming  face  and  outstretched  hand, 
to  welcome  them.  The  Deacon  was  in  his  happiest 
mood,  and  the  little  lady  at  his  side  looked  as  if  she 
had  been  born  smiling,  and  knew  not  how  to  do  any- 
thing else.  Sarah  read  her  through  in  five  minutes 
— "  a  good-hearted,  good-natured  wee  wife,"  she 
thought,  "  who  will  get  her  ain  way — and  the  whole 
o'  it — wi*  smiles,  or  some  such  like  cajolery."  It 
was,  however,  Mrs.  Brodick  who  first  audibly  noticed 
Annie's  absence,  and  asked,  "  Where  is  Annie  ?  I 
was  expecting  to  see  the  lassie  to-day." 

"You  will  be  disappointed,"  answered  Sarah; 
"  Annie  is  in  Glasgow." 

"What  a  pity  she  did  not  let  us  know,  then  we 
could  have  come  home  together." 

Sarah  did  not  answer,  and  the  Deacon  turned  the 

conversation.     He   was  both   anxious   and  curious, 

232 


Annie's  New   Life  233 

but  he  did  not  permit  himself  the  satisfaction  of  any 
inquiry.  But  when  Sarah  was  ready  to  go  to  her 
own  home,  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  said  he  would  con- 
voy her,  muttering  as  he  did  so  something  about 
"  the  dark  night,  and  drunken  sailor  men." 

Mrs.  Lochrigg  regarded  him  scornfully.  "  Man 
Robert !  "  she  answered,  "  what  for  are  you  bring- 
ing in  drunk  men?  You  know  fine  I  am  feared  for 
no  man — drunk  or  sober.  It  would  have  suited  you 
far  better  to  say,  I  want  to  know  the  meaning  o' 
Annie's  absence." 

'  There  are  other  things  I  want  to  know,  also, 
Sarah;  but  your  reproof  is  just,  and  I  deserve  it. 
I'll  go  and  tell  Jean  I  shall  be  awa'  an  hour,  and  then 
you  can  inform  me  what  Annie  and  yourseP  have 
been  up  to,  as  I  walk  home  wi'  you." 

So  he  went  to  Mrs.  Brodick,  who  was  in  her  room 
changing  her  dress,  and  Sarah  could  not  avoid  hear- 
ing the  soft,  loverlike  tones  of  his  voice,  nor  the 
kiss  with  which  their  parting  was  made. 

"  It's  fairly  imbecile  and  scandalous,"  she  mut- 
tered; "  little  kissing  went  on  between  him  and  poor 
Grace.  I'm  thankful  I  didn't  marry  the  man — 
kissing,  indeed!  and  *  What  did  you  say,  darling?' 
and  *  I'll  be  back  anon ! '  and  *  Don't  worry  yourseP, 
my  dearest.'  God  Almighty !  What  fool  was  it  who 


234  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

said  men  grew  wiser  as  they  grew  older?  Perfect, 
ridic'lous  nonsense.  If  there's  a  woman  in  the  case, 
an  old  fool  will  sail  all  round  a  young  one " — 
then  stepping  briskly  forward,  she  called  out 
lustily : 

"  Are  you  coming,  Robert  Brodick?  Your  way  o* 
telling  Jean  is  that  long  and  wearisome  I'm  not 
able  to  wait  on  it.  I'll  be  going." 

"  Anon,  Sarah,  anon." 

He  overtook  her  at  the  gate,  and  she  said,  sar- 
castically, "  You  have  learned  some  new  ways  o* 
saying  *  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour.' ' 

"  I  have  learnt  many  things  lately,  Sarah.  One 
of  them  seems  to  be  that  I  have  an  unloving,  dis- 
obedient daughter." 

"  Faults  are  thick,  when  love  is  thin,  but  I  am 
not  listening  to  anything  against  Annie.  She  is  a 
good,  brave  girl.  She  left  a  letter  for  you  in  your 
desk.  You'll  perhaps  find  time  to  read  it  within  a 
month  or  two." 

"Are  you  angry,  Sarah?" 

"  I'm  not  pleased,  but  the  circumstances  have  been 
turned  very  favorable." 

"  Is  Annie  at  Dr.  Balmuto's?" 

"  Annie  is  in  her  ain  home." 

"God  help  her  I     Is  she  married?" 


Annie's  New  Life  235 

"  You  might  well  pray  for  her — if  she  was  mar- 
ried— but  she  is  not  married." 

"  I  had  a  moment's  fear  o'  Roy." 

"  Ridic'lous !  Annie  is  o'er  like  yoursel'  to  marry 
anybody  but  some  bit  o'  parfection." 

"  You  are  right  there,  Sarah.  Jean  is  as  nearly 
parfect  as  women  ever  get  to  be.  When  you  know 
her  you  will  say  the  same." 

"  Not  I ;  I  would  not  risk  either  my  judgment,  or 
my  truth-telling  on  anybody's  parfection.  Have  you 
forgotten  again  ?  Losh !  but  you  can  put  her  out  o' 
your  thoughts  wi'  a  word." 

"  I  am  loving  Annie,  dear  as  ever,  but  she  has  be- 
haved badly  to  me.  I  told  her  to  get  the  house  in 
order,  and  I  specified  the  time  we  would  be  home, 
and  I  expected  her  to  meet  us  as  a  good  daughter 
should." 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  know  how  good  daughters 
should  meet  step-mothers.  I  am  sure  Annie  obeyed 
her  conscience  in  all  things,  and  as  to  the  house,  what 
was  wrong  with  it  ?  I  thought  it  prettier,  and  more 
comfortable,  than  I  had  ever  before  seen  it." 

"  Just  so,  but  I  want  to  know  where  she  got  money 
to  buy  those  two  large  handsome  chairs,  and  the  new 
carpet,  not  to  speak  o'  the  lace  curtains,  and  other 
bits  o'  household  finery." 


236  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"Weel,  Robert,  they  were  my  wedding  present 
to  you — and  Jean.  Goodness  knows,  your  old  car- 
pet was  faded  and  worn,  your  old  curtains  full  of 
bits  o'  Annie's  darning,  and  your  ancient  chairs  were 
curiosities.  And  I  know  well  that  when  women  are 
up  in  years  they  like  a  big  soft,  easy  chair;  and  you 
yoursel'  are  not  behind  any  elderly  woman  in  that 
respect.  So  I  just  gave  you  both  the  wedding  gifts 
most  likely  to  add  to  your  personal  satisfaction  wP 
life." 

"  Thank  you,  Sarah.  I  am  proud  o'  your  consid- 
eration, and  your  gifts ;  but  I  must  tell  you  that  Jean 
is  not  what  you  may  call  '  elderly,'  she's  just  forty- 
nine,  or  thereabouts." 

"  Thereabouts  is  an  ample  word ;  it  will  cover  all 
discrepancies.  I  see  you  are  not  caring  to  talk  about 
Annie." 

*  You  know  that  I  am  with  you  now  for  that  very 
purpose.  You  said  she  had  her  ain  home,  where 
did  she  get  it?" 

"  In  one  o'  the  fine  West  End  crescents — 26  Kel- 
vinbrae  Terrace." 

"And  the  money  necessary?  Did  you  give  her 
it?" 

"When  did  you  know  o'  me  giving  away  money? 
I  get  value  for  every  penny  piece  I  part  with." 


Annie's  New   Life  237 

"Well,  then,  who  gave  Annie  money?" 
"Her   grandmother    Fleming,    and   her   mothet 
Brodick.    Her  grandmother  left  over  two  hundred 
pounds,  and  her  mother  pretty  nigh  doubled  the 


sum." 


"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  my  wife  Grace 
had  four  hundred  pounds — or  thereabouts — hid 
away  beyond  my  knowledge  ?  " 

"  Ay,  just  so.  It  was  first  of  all  given  to  her  with 
a  solemn  promise  not  to  speak  o'  it  to  any  one,  but 
if  not  needed  in  her  own  case  for  any  extremity,  to 
pass  it  quietly  on  to  Annie,  in  case  some  *  extremity  ' 
came  in  her  life  when  it  would  help  her.  It  came  in 
handy  for  Annie's  extremity." 

"  There's  no  plumming  a  woman's  mind,  and  no 
finding  out  their  secret  ways.  I  am  simply  dum- 
f ounded.  But  Jean  will  be  honest  wi'  me ;  yes,  Jean 
will  be  clear  and  honest.  I'm  sure  o'  that." 

"  Keep  your  faith  in  Jean — if  you  can." 

"  But  whatever  made  Annie  rent  a  house  in  Kel- 
vinbrae?  Rents  are  stupendous  round  that  neigh- 
borhood. I  hope  she  isn't  thinking  o'  taking  lodgers 
or  boarders.  Such  a  like  thing  would  grieve  and 
humiliate  Jean,  and  also  Mr.  Saunders." 

"  Neither  Annie  nor  I  took  the  Saunders  family 
into  our  consideration.  Why  should  we?" 


238  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  Because  it  would  have  been  right  and  kind." 

"  We  were  not  thinking  o'  being  kind,  we  were 
full  o'  our  ain  interests  at  the  time.  And  I  can  tell 
you,  a  woman  can  do  worse  than  let  her  rooms,  or 
cook  a  good  meal  for  strangers  willing  to  pay  for  it. 
However,  your  indignation  is  thrown  awa'  in  this 
respect,  for  Annie  has  not  a  thought  o'  letting  her 
rooms,  or  of  keeping  boarders." 

"What  then?" 

"  You  must  have  known,  if  you  ever  took  notice 
o'  the  lassie,  that  she  had  a  simply  wonderful  gift  wi' 
her  needle.  She  made  all  the  dresses  and  cloaks  in 
your  house,  after  she  was  twelve  years  old,  and  I 
never  yet  saw  the  dressmaker  who  could  give  the 
touch,  and  the  air  o'  distinct  grace  and  gentility,  like 
Annie  Brodick  could.  Marion  Balmuto  says  her 
fine  taste  is  most  extraordinar.  And,  taste  is  every- 
thing !  You  can  buy  skill,  but  fine  taste  is  a  natural- 
born  gift." 

"  Taste  isn't  a  moral  quality.  I  know  nothing 
about  it." 

"  Yet  it  is  from  yoursel'  Annie  gets  her  fine  taste. 
Well,  you  know  whether  your  coats  and  vests  are  in 
good  taste,  or  out  o'  it,  and  I  never  knew  any  one 
harder  to  please  wi'  his  hats  than  Robert  Brodick. 
Man!  I  have  known  you  to  go  to  Gillray's  three 


Annie's   New   Life  239 

days  running  to  choose  a  hat,  and  come  awa'  on  the 
third  day  dissatisfied.  Taste !  You  know  fine  what 
good  taste  is." 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  she  is  going  to  make 
dresses  for  Marion  Balmuto  and  the  like  o'  her?  " 

"  Ay,  you  may  understand  that  much,  and  perhaps 
a  good  deal  mair.  In  a  couple  o'  days  she  will  open 
the  finest  Fashion  Parlor  in  Glasgow.  I  wish  you 
could  just  cast  your  eyes  o'er  her  sale  and  reception 
room,  wi'  its  handsome  furnishings  and  long  mirrors, 
and  the  rich  silks  and  velvets,  and  satins  and  lace, 
gloves  and  silk  stockings  to  match — and " 

"  Hold  a  minute,  Sarah,  you  are  dreaming." 

44 1  ant  as  wide  awake  as  you  are." 

"  Silks,  satins,  velvets,  laces,  these  things  cost 
gold." 

"  To  be  sure — but  for  a  while  she  will  sell  them  on 
commission.  In  a  year  or  less  she  will  sell  her  ain 
goods,  and  have  the  full  profit  on  them." 

"  On  commision  ?  but  she  would  have  to  give  big 
security." 

"  Ay,  Dr.  Balmuto  and  Sarah  Lochrigg  managed 
that  part  o'  the  business." 

44  If  Annie  fails,  it  will  hurt  my  reputation  every 


way." 


Annie  will  not  fail.     Do  you  think  I  would  have 


240  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

put  a  thousand  pounds  into  a  failure?  I  hope  you 
have  a  better  opinion  of  Sarah  Lochrigg  than 
that." 

"  A  thousand  pounds !  " 

"  Ay,  I  am  in  the  firm,  as  it  were,  and  I  know  what 
I  am  doing.  Failure  is  out  o'  our  line.  I'm  going 
to  get  twenty  per  cent,  on  this  investment — perhaps 
more.  And  my  presence  will  give  a  kind  o'  respect- 
ability and  assurance." 

"  Your  appearance  is  not  in  the  fashion,  I  should 
say." 

"  Don't  fash  yourself  about  my  appearance. 
When  I  am  in  Glasgow,  I  shall  be  dressed  up  to  the 
nines — silk  and  velvet  material,  fine  taste,  tip-top 
style,  for  now  and  then  I'll  be  standing  in  place  o' 
Annie.  It  isn't  likely  I  am  going  to  let  a  woman  so 
bonnie,  and  so  young,  go  down  to  the  wholesale 
houses,  where  the  men  are  old,  and  not  to  be  trusted; 
but  they  will  try  no  cantrips  wi'  Sarah  Lochrigg." 

"Weel,  Sarah,  you  have  taken  my  breath  from 
me.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  wonder  again  at  any- 
thing. How  long  have  you  and  Annie  been  plotting 
and  planning  against  me?" 

"  Since  you  began  plotting  and  planning  for  an- 
other wife.  We  had  plenty  of  time,  for  you  were 
as  hard  to  suit  with  a  wife  as  you  are  with  a  hat. 


Annie's  New   Life  241 

That  day  you  went  for  your  wife,  Annie  told  me  that 
Marion  Balmuto  had  secured  patrons,  and  a  proper 
house  for  her,  and  she  was  ready  to  begin  and  work 
for  her  living.  I  liked  her  patience,  and  her  pru- 
dent ways,  and  as  I  had  a  little  money  nearly  idle, 
and  wanted  the  stir  o'  the  city  now  and  then,  I  of- 
fered mysel'  as  her  partner,  and  she  had  the  sense 
to  take  the  offer  gladly,  and  we  shall  neither  of  us 
regret  it." 

"  You  would  not  help  Roy." 

"  I  would  not  throw  money  away." 

"Where  is  Roy?" 

"  God  knows.  Will  traced  him  to  London — then 
lost  sight  and  sound  o'  the  poor  lad." 

"Where  is  Will?" 

"  Still  on  the  Mediterranean  liner.  He  is  to  be 
promoted  soon.  Will  is  all  right,  and  doing  mid- 
dling well.  Now,  then,  the  first  time  you  visit  Glas- 
gow, go  and  see  Annie. 

"  I  will  not.  It  is  Annie's  place  to  come  and  see 
me,  and  her  stepmother." 

"  She  cannot  come  to  you — she  will  be  needed  in 
her  place  constant,  and  she  says  she  will  never  see 
her  stepmother." 

"  She  is  a  dour,  stiff-necked,  disobedient  child. 
But  she'll  come  to  me.  I'll  never  go  to  her." 


242  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Never  is  not  for  mortal  man,  or  woman,  to  say." 
"When  are  you  going  to  Glasgow?" 
"  If  all  is  well,  I'm  going  on  Monday.     Here  we 
are  at  my  house  door.     Go  back  to  your  Jean,  and 
ask  her.     I  think  she  will  bid  you  call  on  Annie  at 
once." 

u  I  am  sure  she  will  leave  the  question  to  my  own 
sense  o'  right.' 

"  Then  she'll  be  a  queer  kind  o'  woman.  Just 
think  o'  the  convenience  Annie  might  be  to  her,  in 
the  way  o'  handsome  gowns.  Tut-tut!  no  woman 
would  let  such  an  opportunity  go  by  her,  for  the  sake 
o'  a  few  kind  words.  Jean  will  make  you  see  that 
it  is  your  duty  to  call  on  your  daughter." 

"  Jean  has  nothing  of  such  a  selfish,  scheming  na- 
ture. Jean  will  pay  full  price  for  all  she  wears.  I'll 
see  to  that." 

"  You're  in  the  glorified  atmosphere  o*  a  newly 
married  man,  Robert.     You  think  you  can  do  every- 
thing with  your  wife,  and  your  wife  will  finally  do 
everything  wlith  you.     Good-night,  Robert." 
"  You  are  a  provoking  creature,  Sarah." 
"  Ay,  it  is  a  provoking  world.     Haste  you  home 


"  I'm  no  feared,  Sarah.    Jean  is  a  sensible  wo- 
man.    Good-night." 


Annie's   New   Life  243 

And  as  "  all  was  well  "  on  the  following  Monday, 
and  the  weather  exceptionally  fine,  Sarah  carried  out 
her  purpose  of  going  to  Glasgow.  She  was  in  a 
pleasant  mood  of  self-congratulation,  for  she  was 
reflecting,  as  she  travelled  to  the  city,  how  few 
women  at  her  age  would  have  the  strength  of  char- 
acter to  enter  upon  a  new  life  with  radically  different 
interests  and  sources  of  profit.  She  felt  that  she  was 
leaping  beyond  her  own  shadow;  and  daring  the 
larger  horizon  of  a  city  woman,  and  a  woman  of 
business  with  city  women.  And  the  thought  was  ex- 
hilarating to  her. 

She  found  Annie  dressing  the  windows  of  her 
show  room,  and  was  delighted  with  her  taste  and 
judgment.  Annie  also  was  happy  and  sanguine,  and 
as  she  went  about  putting  laces  and  gloves  and  rib- 
bons into  their  proper  receptacle,  she  chatted  pleas- 
antly of  their  bright  prospects,  and  the  orders  and 
promises  already  received.  But  she  did  not  name  her 
father,  or  her  home,  and  her  reticence  in  this  respect 
soon  became  oppressive  to  Sarah,  and  she  said 
sharply:  '  Why  are  you  not  asking  about  your  ain 
folk?" 

"  I  knew  you  would  tell  me  all  worth  telling,  when 
you  felt  like  it." 

"  Weel,  then,  I'll  tell  you  now,  and  be  by  with  it. 


244  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

As  to  your  father  and  his  new  wife,  they  came  home 
cooing  like  a  pair  o'  turtle  doves,  and  they  were 
pleased  with  the  house,  and  what  had  been  done  to 
it." 

"Did  father  ask  for  me?" 

"  Your  stepmother  did.  I  said  you  had  made 
your  home  in  Glasgow,  and  the  subject  went  by  for 
the  hour.  But  as  your  father  convoyed  me  hame,  I 
told  him  everything,  and  for  the  life  o'  me,  I  cannot 
yet  decide  what  he  thought,  or  what  he  felt.  Only, 
he  said  plainly  he  would  not  come  to  see  you  until 
you  had  been  to  see  your  new  mother." 

"  Do  not  call  her  my  *  new  mother '  again,  Sarah. 
I  am  not  liking  it." 

"  And  pray  how  will  you  alter  the  fact  ?  You 
be  to  accept  it,  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Things 
have  sorted  themselves  about  as  your  father  wanted 
them — even  better.  He  had  set  his  heart  on  having 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Saunders  for  a  son-in-law,  and  he  has 
got  him  for  a  stepson;  and  hearing  and  seeing  htm- 
sel'  called  *  Father '  constant  by  the  popular  young 
man." 

"  I  cannot  believe  that." 

"  Weel,  I'll  swear  to  it.  There  were  letters  wait- 
ing him  and  bride  when  they  won  home,  and  your 
father  read  his  aloud;  it  began,  '  My  dear  and  much- 


Annie's  New   Life  245 

respected  Father.'  And  pretty  soon  she  read  aloud 
from  her  letter  this  message  from  the  stepson — '  Tell 
father  I  will  send  the  papers  regularly,  and  also  the 
new  Hymns  and  Paraphrases  as  soon  as  they  are  out 
of  the  printers'  hands.'  Now,  then,  what  are  you 
going  to  do,  or  say,  to  offset  such  flattering  words? 
His  '  dear  respected  father '  was  mightily  pleased 
with  them.  I  can  tell  you  that  much." 

"  I  shall  neither  do  nor  say  anything.  Father 
knows  me.  He  knows  I  love  and  respect  him.  He 
cannot  forget  me." 

"  I  would  not  build  on  that  faith — very  high. 
The  second  Mrs.  Brodick  is  as  bonnie  a  woman  as 
you  could  meet  in  a  day's  walk." 

"Then  she  is  pretty?" 

"  Ay,  very  much  so,  for  her  years.  She  has 
brown  hair  wi'  the  wave  o'  a  curl  in  it,  and  soft 
brown  eyes,  and  a  trig  figure,  and  a  little  foot,  and  a 
light  step;  forbye  a  smile,  and  a  voice  that  could 
win  her  way  straight  through  any  man's  heart.  I 
don't  love  the  woman,  but  it  would  be  gey  easy  to 
love  her;  for  I'm  sure  she  is  straightforward  and 
good-hearted.  Your  father  has  had  his  usual  luck, 
and  got  much  more  than  he  had  any  right  to 
expect." 

"  Did  they  go  to  the  Kirk  together?  " 


246  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Ay,  they  did  that." 

"  Father  always  left  mother  and  myself  to  follow 
him." 

"  He  will  doubtless  fall  into  the  lonesome  way  be- 
fore long,  but  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  watch  them 
come  linking  up  to  the  Kirk  door.  She  was  bonnily 
dressed,  and  the  Kirk  was  as  full  as  if  it  was  a  sac- 
ramental occasion,  or  a  missionary  service  wi'  real 
missionaries  on  the  platform." 

"What  did  she  wear?" 

"  A  puce-colored  satin  gown,  and  a  little  white 
lace  bonnet,  and  if  you  can  believe  it — a — white — 
lace — shawl." 

"Sarah!" 

"  And  white  kids  on  her  hands.  It's  simple  truth 
I'm  telling  you.  Your  father  carried  his  white 
gloves,  and  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Elder  Ruth- 
ven's  face.  He  showed  a  parfect  contempt  for  the 
Deacon." 

"  There  was  no  necessity  for  any  one's  contempt. 
Father  did  the  right  thing.  Contempt  is  not  for 
Deacon  Brodick.  Let  us  drop  the  subject.  We 
have  our  own  affairs  to  discuss." 

They  soon  found  these  more  than  sufficient. 
Marion  Balmuto,  in  a  fine  equipage,  called  early,  and 
she  was  followed  by  a  constant  stream  of  visitors. 


Annie's   New   Life  247 

The  next  day,  and  many  days  afterwards,  were 
equally  busy;  and  it  became  necessary  for  Sarah — 
handsomely  gowned — to  take  her  place  at  the  desk. 
She  filled  it  to  perfection.  "  I  have  simply  stepped 
into  my  proper  work,"  she  said,  and  she  did  not  go 
back  to  Arran  for  a  month.  The  business  was  then 
on  a  good  foundation,  and  Sarah  was  suffering  to 
report  her  experiences  to  Robert  Brodick — and  many 
others. 

It  does  not  take  a  sensible  life  long  to  accommo- 
date itself  to  new  surroundings  Annie  was  not  un- 
happy. She  had  a  moderated  passion  for  money- 
making,  and  she  liked  to  invent  and  bring  to  beauti- 
ful perfection  garments  ideally  lovely  and  graceful. 
Invitations  of  all  kinds  were  soon  extended  to  her, 
but  she  wisely  stood  on  her  business  position,  and  ac- 
cepted hospitalities  from  no  one  but  the  Balumtos. 
But  Marion  had  need  of  friendship  at  this  time,  for 
she  was  to  marry  Mr.  Crieff  at  the  New  Year,  and 
it  was  only  with  Annie  she  cared  to  discuss  the  great 
change  she  was  approaching.  The  first  information 
given  in  these  confidences  was  a  little  astonishing. 
"  When  you  meet  James,  Annie,  you  will  now  have 
to  call  him  Lord  Crieff." 

"  Is  he  really  a  lord?  " 

"  A  great  lord,  and  like  to  be  greater." 


248  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Why  did  he  not  take  his  title  when  we  first  knew 
him?" 

**  That  troubled  me,  Annie.  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
been  deceived,  and  I  wished  to  break  our  engage- 
ment, but  grandfather  said  he  had  done  well  and 
right.  Still,  I  wish  that  I  had  been  told  all  the 
truth,  when  he  first  asked  me  to  marry." 

"When  did  he  tell  you?" 

"  Last  Winter  his  elder  brother  had  an  accident 
and  became  paralyzed.  He  was  slowly  dying,  and 
the  Earl  of  Crieff  entreated  James  to  come  home. 
So  he  gave  up  everything  and  went  north.  The 
family  needed  him  much,  for  Lord  Hector  was  help- 
less, and  the  earl  himself  a  sick  man.  The  estate 
also  was  suffering  for  want  of  proper  supervision, 
and  James  saw  that  his  duty  lay  with  his  own  fam- 
ily. He  was  grieved  to  resign  his  mission  work,  but 
he  knew  that  the  duties  God  had  set  were  more  bind- 
ing on  him  than  those  he  had  chosen  for  himself.  I 
did  not  see  him  again  until  his  brother  was  dead." 

"  And  he  was  then  heir  to  the  earldom?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  So  you  will  some  day  become  Countess  Crieff?  " 

"  If  I  live." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  won  your  love  in  a  false  position." 

"  So  am  I,  and  at  first  I  could  see  nothing  but  the 


Annie's  New   Life  249 

deception,  but  grandfather  says  he  did  right  not  to 
go  down  to  the  poor  as  a  lord." 

"  He  ought  at  least  to  have  told  your  grandfather 
when  he  asked  his  permission  to  woo  you?  " 

"  He  did  tell  grandfather,  and  it  seems  that  grand- 
father had  long  suspected  his  identity.  I  was  angry 
at  being  kept  in  the  dark,  for  I  believed  James  had 
been  silent  because  he  wished  to  be  sure  that  I  loved 
him  for  himself.  As  if  I  cared  for  any  earthly  title  I 
I,  that  would  rather  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  house  of 
my  God  than  dwell  in  the  palaces  of  kings." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  him  when  he  did  speak  of 
his  real  rank?  " 

"  I  took  our  engagement  ring  from  my  finger  and 
gave  it  back  to  him.  There  was  trouble  in  the  house 
for  a  week,  and  then  I  accepted  the  noble,  in  place 
of  the  preacher.  It  is  my  destiny — the  road  laid 
out  for  me — the  very  road  that  will  lead  me  home." 

"  But  you  wish  to  marry  Lord  Crieff  ?  " 

"  If  I  must  marry — yes.  I  had  hoped  that  joy- 
ful and  sorrowful  experience  was  finished.  It  seems 
not  quite." 

Annie  looked  up  doubtfully,  curiously,  not  sure 
what  to  say,  and  Marion  added,  "If  you  have  read 
understandingly  the  Sacred  Word,  you  must  remem- 
ber the  positive  promise  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — 


250  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

*  The  children  of  this  world  marry  and  are  given  in 
marriage,  but  they  that  shall  be  counted  worthy  to 
obtain  that  world,  and  the  resurrection  from  the 
dead,  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage. 
Neither  can  they  die  any  more,  for  they  are  equal 
unto  the  Angels,  and  are  the  children  of  God.' 
(Luke  Chap.  20.  v.  34-36.)  You  see,  Annie,  when 
we  are  worthy  to  escape  marriage,  we  shall  be  as  the 
Angels,  we  shall  not  be  reincarnated  again,  we  shall 
die  no  more,  we  shall  be  children  of  God,  and  remain 
in  our  Father's  house  forever." 

"  But  God  appointed  marriage,  Marion." 
"  It  is  a  grand  spiritual  school,  the  best  of  all 
schools.     I  have  to  go  there  again;  there  is  some 
lesson  for  me  to  learn  that  can  only  be  learned  in  it. 
The  angel  of  my  life  knows  best.     I  take  the  road 
laid  out — it  will  prove  the  nearest  way  home." 
"  And  you  are  glad  to  take  it  with  Lord  Crieff  ?  " 
"  Yes,  very  glad.    He  understands  me." 
"  As  we  are  talking  of  your  marriage,  let  me  show 
you  an  exquisite  piece  of  white  satin   fit  for  a  mar- 
riage gown,   and  some  lace  that  is  a  miracle   of 
beauty.     Where  do  you  go  for  your  honeymoon?" 
"  We  go  straight  to  Crieff  Castle.     There  is  work 
for  me  to  do  there,  comfort  to  speak,  help  to  give, 
something  to  accomplish,  or  to  suffer,  before  I  go 


Annie's  New   Life  251 

hence.  So  much  I  know,  the  rest  will  be  shown  to 
me.  It  is  all  well." 

Such  conversations  were  frequent,  and  Annie 
glided  over  them  as  easily  as  possible.  She  gave  to 
Marion  a  warm  and  perfect  gratitude,  but  the  feeling 
could  hardly  be  called  friendship.  The  women  were 
too  radically  different,  and,  besides,  true  friendship 
has  no  acquaintance  with  gratitude.  Still  they  were 
never  many  days  apart,  and  Annie  learned  to  love 
without  understanding,  very  much  as  a  child  loves 
without  asking  itself  'why?' 

And  Annie's  life  was  soon  a  busy  one.  Every  week 
saw  fresh  additions  to  the  number  of  her  work- 
women, and  before  November  a  professional  book- 
keeper had  been  installed  in  Sarah's  place.  For  dur- 
ing the  Winter  months  Sarah  came  less  frequently  to 
Glasgow,  but  she  stayed  longer  when  she  did  come, 
and  these  visits  were  alway  times  of  refreshment  to 
Annie.  They  renewed  her  in  every  direction,  and 
kept  fresh  and  firm  that  sacred  bond  which  tied  her 
to  the  kindred  she  had  apparently  denied. 

For  Sarah  was  an  absolutely  truthful  woman. 
She  did  not  love  the  second  Mrs.  Brodick,  but  she 
scorned  not  to  give  her  the  praise  due  her.  Frankly 
enough,  she  mocked  at  the  Deacon's  idolatry  of  his 
Jean,  but  with  equal  frankness  admitted  the  woman 


252  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

deserved  it.  "  She's  the  sweetest-tempered  creature 
in  the  world,"  she  said  one  day,  "  and  if  it  is  ever 
lawful  to  be  a  stepmother,  she  could  show  her  cre- 
dentials for  the  almost  impossible  office.  Every  one 
praises  her,  Annie,  that's  a  fact." 

"  And  every  one  blames  me,  I  suppose,  for  run- 
ning away  from  such  a  paragon." 

"  Ay,  they  do.  Some  people  say  things  you  would 
not  like,  but  I  always  tell  them  to  *  mind  their  own 
business  until  they  grow  sense  enough  to  attend  to 
other  people's.'  You  are  owing  none  of  them  any- 
thing in  the  way  o'  a  back  word.  I  have  lifted  them 
all,  and  they  are  paid  in  full.  You  see,  Annie,  I 
wear  one  o'  my  silk  gowns  very  constant  now,  and  a 
silk  gown  on  a  weekday  downs  and  dumbs  them  a 
bit.  They  will  take  from  a  woman  in  silk  what 
they  would  fling  back  like  stones  to  a  woman  in  a 
linsey  petticoat — that's  human  nature — a  snobbish, 
cowardly  nature  it  is." 

"  Not  always." 

"  Weel,  in  the  general.  I'm  not  including  our  ain 
families,  of  course.  Dear  knows,  it's  a  good  thing 
for  Arran  that  the  salt  o'  some  o'  its  families  hasn't 
lost  its  savor.  The  sins  o'  the  Brodicks  and  Loch- 
riggs  have  been  among  themselves,  and  none  o'  them 
bad  enough  to  make  meeting  at  the  Resurrection 


Annie's  New   Life 

' 
painful  beyond  measure.    At  the  New  Year,  I  hope 

you'll  go  home  and  make  up  wi'  Mrs.  Brodick.  I 
have  a  notion  it  may  be  easier  done  here  than 
yonder" 

And  Annie,  smiling,  shook  her  head,  and  taking 
Sarah's  arm  answered — "  Come,  let  us  have  some 
dinner.  There  is  a  fine  black  cock  roasted  before 
the  fire,  and  a  pudding,  and  the  best  cup  of  tea  in 
Glasgow." 


7 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

MARION   FINDS  THE  WAY   HOME 

IN  orderly  monotony  the  busy  days  passed  into 
weeks,  and  the  weeks  into  months,  and  nothing  until 
near  the  New  Year  disturbed  the  even  tenor  of  their 
duties  and  pleasures.  But  between  Christmastide 
and  the  New  Year,  Marion  was  quietly  married  to 
Lord  Crieff,  and  went  with  him  to  the  gloomy  old 
castle  on  the  shore  of  the  stormy  North  Sea.  An- 
nie dressed  her,  both  for  her  wedding  and  her  wed- 
ding journey,  and  she  was  astonished  at  the  silence 
and  restraint  that  marked  her  behavior.  If  the  con- 
trary had  not  been  certain,  Annie  would  have  feared 
she  was  either  an  unwilling  or  an  unhappy  bride. 
For  as  she  clasped  her  mantle,  its  black  fur  trim- 
mings so  accentuated  the  pallor,  and  even  anxiety  of 
the  childish  face,  Annie  could  not  help  asking:  "  Do 
you  fear  to  go,  darling?  It  is  so  cold  and  dreary 
now  in  the  Highlands,  why  not  stay  South  until 
Spring?5* 

"  I  cannot,  Annie.  No  doubt  the  road  will  be 
cold  and  difficult,  and  the  castle  lonely  and  full  of  the 
shadow  of  death;  but  it  is  on  the  way,  dear,  on  the 

254 


Marion   Finds   the  Way   Home         255 

way  home.  If  I  turn  aside  from  it  now,  I  may  never 
find  it  again.  I  dare  not  think  of  that.  I  know  that 
I  am  right;"  and  a  smile  like  sunshine  transfigured 
her  face,  and  she  lifted  up  her  head  and  began  to  talk 
cheerfully,  unconscious  of  the  tears  that  were  brim- 
ming her  eyes,  until  one  fell  upon  the  glove  Annie 
was  buttoning.  She  brushed  it  away  with  a  laugh- 
ing reminder  that  "  tears  were  not  for  wedding 
days;"  then  commending  her  grandfather  to  Annie's 
friendship,  she  kissed  her,  and  went  rapidly  to  the 
waiting  coach. 

"  That  is  over,"  sighed  Annie,  as  she  watched  the 
vehicle  disappear.  "  Once  in  school,  once  in  Arran, 
here  in  Glasgow,  some  fate  has  thrown  us  together. 
Aunt  Sarah  would  say  the  third  time  was  final.  Per- 
haps it  is.  I  think  we  have  done  for  each  other  all 
appointed  us." 

But  she  was  haunted  for  many  days  by  the  mem- 
ory of  the  white  childish  face,  so  fearful  and  yet  so 
brave,  nor  quite  satisfied  when  she  received  a  letter 
from  Castle  Crieff  telling  her  that  "  everything  was 
much  better  than  she  had  expected."  Still  in  Annie's 
busy  life  the  incident  gradually  lost  its  importance, 
until  there  remained  only  a  fugitive  memory,  binding 
her  to  show  some  friendship  towards  the  lonely  old 
man  committed  to  her  kindness. 


256  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

One  evening,  after  an  exhausting  day's  work,  she 
put  on  her  hat  and  cloak  and  went  to  see  the  Pro- 
fessor. She  was  physically  weary,  and  a  little  down- 
hearted, for  she  was  beginning  to  find  out  that 
money-making  was  not  always  happiness-making. 
She  had  had  some  business  disappointments,  and 
Sarah  had  not  been  well,  and  her  visits  had  been  de- 
layed or  omitted,  and  it  takes  but  a  trifle  in  such 
moods  to  make  the  heart  fearful  and  unhappy.  She 
had  also  a  great  longing  to  see  her  father,  and  as  she 
rapidly  trod  the  gas-lit,  crowded  streets,  she  felt  that 
any  one  from  her  native  place  who  could  talk  to  her 
of  the  people  she  knew,  and  loved,  would  be  dearly 
welcome. 

Full  of  this  feeling,  she  entered  Professor  Bal- 
muto's  parlor,  and  found  Will  Morrison  sitting  with 
him.  She  was  delighted.  She  took  both  Will's  hands 
in  hers,  and  sitting  down  at  his  side  opened  a  conver- 
sation which  was  like  wine  to  her  heart.  For  an 
hour  she  was  her  happiest  self,  and  the  Professor 
looked  and  listened  with  some  astonishment.  It  was 
an  Annie  Brodick  he  had  never  before  seen. 

When  Annie  rose  to  go  Will  rose  with  her.  "  I 
will  see  you  safe  home,  Annie,  if  you  will  give  me 
that  pleasure,"  he  said,  and  Annie  smiled,  and  laid 
her  hand  in  his.  The  streets  were  damp  and  dirty, 


Marion   Finds   the  Way   Home         257 

there  was  not  a  star  in  the  lift,  the  lights  were  dim  in 
the  fog,  and  the  air  was  full  of  discordant  sounds, 
but  Will  had  an  interior  light  and  joy  that  made 
him  oblivious  of  all  exterior  discomforts.  He  led 
her  the  longest  way  home,  and  Annie  made  no  dis- 
senting remark,  for  Will  surrounded  her  with  the 
aura  of  Home  and  home-love,  and  it  was  that  cher- 
ishing, nourishing  influence  she  hungered  for. 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Will  finally  told  her  that 
he  had  had  a  letter  from  Roy,  and  was  intending  to 
take  a  midnight  train  to  Liverpool  in  order  to  see 
him.  "  I  believe  he  is  going  abroad,"  he  said, 
"  though  he  does  not  name  any  place  in  particular. 
Aunt  Sarah  thought  I  had  better  see  him.  What 
do  you  think,  Annie?" 

"  I  think  Aunt  Sarah  is  likely  to  be  right." 

"Then  I  shall  go.  Have  you  any  message  for 
Roy?" 

"  No.  He  left  me  without  either  spoken  or  writ- 
ten word.  Do  not  remind  him  of  Annie  Brodick." 

"  A  good  wish  could  do  no  harm." 

"  If  you  think  so,  give  him  one.  I  wish  well  to 
all." 

"Nothing  more?    Not  one  hope,  Annie?" 

u  Not  one.  It  would  be  an  untruth,  and  could  do 
him  no  good.  I  pray  God  to  help  him  to  bring  forth 


258  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

the  best  in  him,  for  I  do  believe,  Will,  that  beneath 
the  frivolous,  deceitful,  outside  man,  there  is  an  un- 
derlying personality  of  sweetness  and  nobility.  At 
times  I  got  a  glimpse  of  it,  but  I  had  not  the  power 
over  Roy  to  bring  it  to  the  front,  and  set  it  above 
the  lower  man.  Marion  could  explain  what  I  mean. 
I  stumble,  for  I  do  not  see  clearly." 

"  I  know.  There  is  a  good  side  to  Roy.  I  have 
seen  it." 

But  Will  noticed  that  she  did  not  ask  him  to  call 
on  his  return  from  Liverpool.  Indeed  she  seemed 
to  resolutely  put  her  old  lover  out  of  the  conver- 
sation, which  turned  during  the  rest  of  their  walk 
upon  Will's  next  voyage  to  Smyrna,  and  upon  Aunt 
Sarah's  remarkable  rejuvenation.  At  Annie's  house 
door  they  stood  a  few  minutes,  and  she  said,  "  Be 
sure  to  call  and  see  me  when  you  come  back  from 
the  Mediterranean,  Will.  I  want  to  hear  about  all 
the  wonderfuls  that  have  happened  to  you." 

"  I  will  not  forget,  you  may  be  sure  of  that, 
Annie." 

"  Good-bye,  Will !  You  have  done  me  good,  more 
good  than  you  can  imagine."  And  Will  clasped  her 
hands  in  his  and  said,  "  God  bless  you,  Annie,"  and 
so  turned  away;  for  his  love  had  that  nobility  which 
scorns  success,  unless  won  with  stainless  honor.  In 


Marion   Finds   the   Way   Home         259 

Liverpool  he  would  speak  plainly  to  Roy,  and  if  Roy 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  winning  Annie  for  his  wife, 
he  could  then  press  his  own  suit  with  a  clear  con- 
science. 

If  Annie  thought  further  that  night  of  the  broth- 
ers, it  was  of  Will  mainly.  "  Roy  wants  money," 
she  decided,  "  and  doubtless  poor  Will  is  expected  to 
supply  it."  The  subject,  however,  was  old  and  worn 
out,  she  put  it  fretfully  aside,  and  really  was  more 
anxious  to  see  Sarah  than  either  of  her  nephews.  She 
missed  her  cheerful  hopefulness,  and  the  mental 
tonic  of  her  clear-sighted  truth-telling  about  all 
events. 

One  snowy  afternoon  four  days  afterwards,  Sarah 
came  into  the  showroom  with  a  little  blustering  de- 
fiance of  the  weather.  "  I  have  won  here  in  spite  o' 
the  storm,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  a 
fine  day,  till  I  was  enough  out  o'  temper  to  take  the 
very  worst  day  o'  the  Winter,  and  I  just  told  Nature 
to  mind  her  own  affairs,  and  I  would  mind  mine  in 
spite  o'  her.  So  here  I  am,  Annie.  And  how's  all 
wi'  you  ?  " 

"  All  right,  Aunt."  Then  they  went  into  the  par- 
lor, and  Annie  ordered  tea,  and  removed  Sarah's  wet 
wraps,  and  both  women  chattered  the  while  of  the 
things  they  had  been  keeping  for  mutual  discussion. 


260  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

And  whether  Annie's  apparent  forgetfulness  of  both 
Roy  and  Will  was  real  or  feigned,  even  the  sharp- 
eyed  Sarah  could  not  determine.     But  whenever  her 
observation  failed,  Sarah  quickly  came  to  catechism, 
and  so  turning  sharply  to  Annie,  she  asked: — 
"  Did  you  see  Will  last  week?  " 
"  Yes,  I  met  him  at  Professor  Balmuto's." 
"  Did  he  tell  you  he  was  going  to  Liverpool  to 
see  Roy?" 

"  He  told  me.  Did  he  see  his  brother?  " 
"  Ay,  he  saw  both  Roy  and  Roy's  wife." 
"Roy's  wife?" 

"  That  is  what  I  say,  and  it  is  the  very  truth, 
Annie  Brodick.  He  has  married  a  singing  girl,  a 
dancing  girl  out  o'  some  o'  the  deil's  playhouses — 
and  mair,  he  is  parfectly  delighted  wi'  himsel'  for 
the  doing  o'  the  deed." 

"  Are  you  believing  the  like  o'  that,  Aunt  ?  " 
"  Will  saw  the  lassie — had  speech  wi'  her — and 
heard  her  sing.  He  says  she  is  bonnie  beyond  com- 
paring, and  sings  like  a  lark  on  the  wing.  Will  was 
fairly  bewitched  by  her,  he  hadn't  words  big  enough 
to  praise  her." 

"  Did  Will  Morrison  go  to  a  playhouse  to  hear 
her  sing?  " 

"  Now  then,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  Would 


Marion   Finds  the  Way  Home        261 

you  get  Will  Morrison  inside  o*  a  playhouse?  She 
sang  for  Will  in  their  ain  room.  They  are  going  to 
New  York,  where  Roy  is  sure  she  will  make  a  for- 
tune." 

"  And  in  the  meantime — what?" 

"  Roy  borrowed  fifty  pounds  from  Will.  Mrs. 
Roy  Morrison  had  also  a  few  pounds  saved,  and 
they  were  as  happy  as  two  bairns  going  on  a  pic- 


nic." 


"And  Will  thought  her  pretty?" 

"  Will  said  she  was  a  great  beauty.  She  gave 
Will  pictures  o'  herself  from  the  papers,  and  made 
him  read  some  o'  the  fine  words  about  her  singing 
and  dancing.  Roy  is  fairly  transported  with  his 
good  fortune,  for  he  says  all  London  town  was  at 
her  feet." 

"  Such  ridiculous  nonsense !  The  town  o'  Lon- 
don has  something  else  to  do,  than  fling  itself  at  any 
woman's  feet.  That  is  one  of  Roy's  evendown  lies. 
Did  Will  tell  you  what  the  creature  was  like?" 

"  Ay,  Will  said  she  was  like  a  rose.  He  said  songs 
came  bubbling  into  her  throat,  and  rippled  in  music 
from  her  lips.  He  said  she  was  all  frills  and  rib- 
bons, and  lace  and  smiles — dressed  marvelous  in 
pink  and  white — and  jewels  round  her  neck,  and  arms 
and  fingers." 


262  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

"  And  toes,  too,  I  suppose?  No,  I  believe  it  was 
'bells  on  her  toes '  the  lady  going  to  Bambury  Cross 
on  her  cock-horse  wore." 

"  That  will  do,  Annie  Brodick.  I  wouldn't  be 
spiteful  and  envious — it  is  far  from  like  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  caring,  Aunt.  I  just  wonder  at 
Will  being  so  easily  taken  captive.  The  circum- 
stance is  what  we  might  expect  from  Roy — but 

Will "  and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  to  express 

her  contemptuous  astonishment,  not  being  able  to 
find  words  strong  enough. 

"  Ay,  Will  kind  of  staggered  me.  She  had  him 
under  her  witchery.  He  actually  said  he  thought 
she  would  manage  Roy  better  than  any  other  kind 
o'  woman.  God  knows  good  women  like  myself 
and  Annie  Brodick  have  totally  failed  wi'  the  lad." 

"What  did  you  say  to  Will?" 

"  Not  much,  for  Will  would  hear  nothing  against 
either  o'  them.  He  said  he  saw  no  harm  in  the 
bonnie  wee  wife,  and  a  good  deal  o'  everything 
loving  and  lovable — and  the  like  o'  that." 

"Sarah!" 

"  More  kinds  of  good  women  than  one.  He  said 
that  also,  and  he  had  no  doubt  his  pretty  sister-in- 
law  would  be  the  saving  o'  Roy — and  so  forth.  For 
it  seems  Roy  is  in  a  burning  fever  o'  love  for  her, 


Marion   Finds   the  Way   Home         263 

and  Will  thinks  him  a  fairly  changed  man  in  her 
hands." 

"  He  never  loved  me,  Aunt.  I  knew  that  as  soon 
as  I  saw  Lord  Crieff's  love  for  Marion  Balmuto. 
He  thought  me  a  good  speculation,  and  I  disap- 
pointed him.  When  he  gave  me  up,  it  was  without 
a  good-bye  or  a  good  wish." 

"  I'll  tell  you  something,  Annie,  you  perhaps  never 
thought  of.  Roy  got  to  be  superstitious  about  you — 
he  told  Will  he  hated  to  speak  your  name,  for  you 
never  brought  him  anything  but  trouble." 

"He  brought  all  his  troubles  on  himself,  and  he 
brought  me  only  shame  and  sorrow." 

"  You  are  well  off  without  him." 

"  Ay,  but  he  made  a  loss  in  my  life.  I  put  better 
men  away  for  him,  and  I  made  myself  ill,  and  my 
dear  father  miserable,  and  wasted  two  years  of  the 
Springtime  of  my  youth  worrying  anent  him  and 
his  false  love.  I  am  wishing  him  no  ill  with  his  sing- 
ing girl,  indeed  I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  lassie,  for 
she  is  over  good  for  the  like  of  him.  He  will  grow 
superstitious  about  her — if  she  does  not  make  money 
enough  to  suit  him." 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  tell  you  all  the  truth.  Will 
said  he  could  not  do  it." 

"  You  have  done  right,  Aunt.     Truth  stands  all 


264  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

tests.  Now,  Sarah,  this  is  the  last  of  Roy  Morrison 
as  far  as  Annie  Brodick  is  concerned.  Never  name 
him  to  me  again.  And  I  am  not  caring  to  hear  much 
more  about  Will.  His  pretty  sister-in-law  will  suit 
him  better  than  I  shall.  I  want  to  forget  both  of 
them,  so  forget  to  speak  of  them  in  the  future. 
Promise  me  to  do  this." 

"  I'll  promise — conditionally.  I  could  not  say  I 
would  never  speak  o'  them  unless  I  knew  the  fu- 
ture." 

"  How  is  my  father  these  days?  " 

"  Growing  younger  every  hour.  His  second  wife 
is  much  thought  of  by  everybody.  I  mysel'  am 
getting  on  with  her  very  well,  and  she  took  a  great 
fancy  to  Will." 

"Who  is  Will?" 

"  Losh!  Annie,  don't  make  a  fool  o'  yourseP. 
You  ken  fine  who  Will  is — and  I'll  not  stop  talking 
o'  Will  to  please  you.  If  you  would  do  your  duty, 
and  be  a  happy  woman,  you  would  come  to  Arran 
.-and  stay  with  me  for  a  day  or  two.  Then  Mrs. 
Brodick  would  hurry  herself  to  call  and  see  you,  and 
you  have  only  to  meet,  and  be  friends.  You  cannot 
keep  an  ill-feeling  towards  her,  I  know,  for  I  tried 
hard,  and  I  could  not  manage  it." 

'*  If  Mrs.  Brodick  wants  to  see  me,  she  can  call 


Marion   Finds   the  Way   Home         265 

here.  She  has  as  much  invitation  as  any  one.  She 
is  in  Glasgow,  I  suppose,  at  the  present  time." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  She  was  in  our  Kirk  last 
Sunday." 

"  I  heard  Mrs.  Laird  telling  Mrs.  Cowrie  this 
morning  that  their  minister — Mr.  Saunders,  you 
know — had  a  son  born  to  him  last  night.  I'll  war- 
rant Mrs.  Brodick  was  there  to  welcome  the  child." 

"Why  not?  And  now  your  father  will  have  a 
grandson.  My  certie!  but  he'll  be  the  proud  auld 
man.  Doubtless  it  will  be  called  '  Robert '  after 
him." 

"  Why?  The  child  has  a  real  grandfather  of  his 
own  blood  and  kin." 

"  He  is  a  worldly,  sinful  creature,  not  fit  to  grand- 
father such  a  child  o'  grace  as  the  Minister's  first 
bairn  will  be.  Your  father  will  have  the  grand- 
father's duty  to  do,  and  I'm  sure  your  stepmother 
will  be  daft  over  her  part  o'  it.  You  will  only  be  a 
kind  o'  aunt,  but  you  will  be  called  upon  for  coral 
beads,  and  embroidered  robes,  and  such  like  neces- 
sities— forbye,  the  baptizing  fineries  and  gifts." 

"  I  shall  not  ware  a  bawbee  on  the  child." 

"Your  family,  Annie " 

"  My  family  increases  too  fast." 

"  You  are  a  dour  lassie.    Give  way  a  bit,  Annie." 


266  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Not  an  inch,  Sarah.  I  have  no  one  in  all  the 
world  but  you.  No  one  else  cares  for  me,  and  I 
care  for  no  one  else.  You  are  all  I  have,  you  are  all 
I  want — except  father — and  he  goes  further  and 
further  away.  He  will  be  beyond  my  knowledge 
soon,  but  he  is  happy,  thank  God  for  that !  " 

This  conjunction  of  circumstances  impressed 
Annie  profoundly.  Except  for  one  old  woman,  she 
stood  alone  in  the  world.  Roy  had  deserted  her 
and  married  another  woman.  Will's  behavior  she 
persisted  in  misunderstanding.  He  had  sided  with 
Roy  and  Roy's  wife,  and  given  them  love  and  money 
though  they  had  treated  her  so  badly.  Yes,  she  felt 
Will's  disaffection  far  more  bitterly  than  Roy's  in- 
fidelities. Roy  had  behaved  to  her  with  brutal  in- 
difference, and  scornful  neglect,  and  Will  had  never 
for  a  moment  made  Roy  feel  that  he  was  angry  with 
him  for  it. 

Sarah  spoke  of  the  brotherly  tie,  and  of  their 
probable  life-long  parting,  and  then — most  unad- 
visably — of  Will's  delight  in  finding  that  he  might 
now  woo  her,  without  wounding  his  brother's  feel- 
ings. This  latter  suggestion  enraged  Annie.  She 
wanted  to  know  what  Roy  Morrison's  feelings  had 
to  do  with  her?  She  said  she  would  utterly  scorn 
a  lover  who  asked  Roy  Morrison  if  he  had  done 


Marion   Finds   the  Way   Home         267 

with  her — for  that,  in  plain  Scotch,  was  what  Will 
meant.  So  he  had  been  waiting,  till  Roy  gave  him 
permission  to  speak  to  her,  had  he  ?  Let  him  know 
then,  now  and  forever,  she  would  never  give  herself 
permission  to  listen.  Waiting  till  Roy  signified  that 
he  had  done  with  her!  Over  and  over  she  made 
this  provoking  assertion,  until  it  had  thoroughly 
poisoned  her  heart  and  mind  with  its  venomous 
ideas. 

And  Sarah  found  all  her  philosophy  and  all  her 
homely  sarcasms  blunted  weapons  against  Annie's 
sense  of  insult  and  desertion.  She  would  listen  to 
no  excuses,  but  surrounded  herself  with  an  atmos- 
phere of  proud  isolation,  and  gave  all  her  energies 
to  money-making.  And  if  financial  success  can  atone 
for  love's  failure,  Annie  ought  to  have  been  satis- 
fied; for  it  was  not  only  in  her  legitimate  business 
she  prospered,  she  developed  a  talent  for  speculation, 
which  fairly  frightened  the  more  prudent  Sarah.  In 
this  respect,  Annie's  most  pronounced  natural  in- 
stinct adopted  its  opposite,  and  with  a  kind  of  reck- 
less confidence,  forced  it  to  astounding  results.  And 
Sarah  trembled  at  the  risks  Annie  took,  and  then 
trembled  anew  at  their  wonderful  success. 

"  It  isn't  canny,  Annie,"  she  said  almost  in  a  whis- 
per. "  I'm  feared,  I'm  feared,  my  lass,  that  we  are 


268  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

out  of  the  way  o'  righteousness.  Such  profits  might 
be  called  usury,  and  there  is  something  said  in  the 
Word  anent  usury.  I  don't  just  remember  it,  for  I 
was  paying  no  attention  to  a  sin  I  thought  clear 
beyond  my  power  to  commit."  And  Annie  only 
smiled;  she  knew  large  profits  could  make  their  own 
justification,  if  any  was  needed. 

So  time  went  on,  and  at  the  end  of  the  third  yezr 
Annie  owned  the  house  she  had  almost  been  afraid 
to  rent,  and  had,  besides,  far  more  "  lying  siller"  in 
Glasgow  banks  than  any  one  suspected.  She  declared 
she  was  satisfied  with  her  life.  "  It  gave  her,"  she 
said,  "  far  more  pleasure  than  love  had  done.  Love 
had  brought  her  nothing  but  fear  and  worry,  and 
slight  and  shame,  and  quarreling  and  disappointment. 
But  her  Bank  Book!  It  was  all  in  golden  figures, 
and  it  never  lied  to  her,  never  deceived  her,  never 
broke  its  promises.  A  friend  like  that  was  better 
than  a  lover.  Yes,  indeed!  " 

Testing  things  by  such  material  results,  Annie 
felt  that  she  had  turned  love's  failure  into  a  golden 
success.  But  whether  this  satisfaction  would  be  able 
to  bear  the  proof  and  trial  of  loftier  standards  of 
conduct,  was  not  yet  within  her  experience — scarcely 
within  her  consideration.  The  criterion  came  to 
her  one  hot  evening  in  early  August.  She  was  sitting 


Marion   Finds  the  Way   Home         269 

alone  at  the  open  window,  vaguely  watching  the 
weary  crowd  of  workers  trailing  homeward.  The 
doorbell  startled  her.  It  was  an  imperative  ring — 
a  ring  that  had  the  vitality  of  a  human  call  in  it,  and 
she  went  to  meet  the  girl  hurrying  upstairs  with  a 
telegram : — 

"  Annie,  come  to  me.  I  am  nearly  home.  Marion." 

She  was  shocked.  She  had  forgotten  Marion. 
She  thought  her  duty  in  that  direction  was  finished, 
and  the  call  was  not  welcome.  But  being  August, 
she  had  no  valid  excuse  for  not  going  to  Crieff ;  her 
business  was  closed  until  September,  and  she  had 
just  been  planning  for  a  visit  to  the  Bridge  of  Allan. 
The  ancient  castle  and  the  dying  woman  did  not  al- 
lure her.  However,  the  message  had  come  with 
an  authority  beyond  any  every-day  design  and  she 
felt  that  she  must  obey  it,  willingly  or  not.  Her 
conscience  in  this  respect  was  still  sensitive  as  a 
nerve,  and  she  had  no  rest  until  she  began  to  make 
preparations  for  the  journey;  so  that  on  the  evening 
of  the  second  day,  the  earl  met  her  at  the  nearest 
landing  place,  and  she  saw  at  once  upon  his  face 
the  shadow  of  that  sorrow  that  was  only  waiting. 

"  Marion?"  she  asked  as  they  met  with  clasping 
hands. 

"  She  is  drifting  away  to  a  still,  strange  land." 


270  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  It  is  the  land  she  has  always  been  seeking." 
"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  the  vision  of  the  divine 
home  from  which  her  soul  wandered,  haunted  her 
continually.     I  am  glad  you  have  come,  for  Marion 
cannot  remain  long  in  the  borderland.     Christ  him- 
self will  speak  the  '  Enter  thou '  unto  her." 
"  Here,  she  could  not  be  satisfied." 
"  She  was  on  her  way  to  God,  and  could  rest  noth- 
ing short  of  that." 

As  they  approached  the  Castle,  Annie  saw  with 
a  pang  of  pain  the  last  earthly  home  of  the  sweet 
spirit  hungering  for  "  one  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens."  It  stood  among  black  pre- 
cipitous crags,  on  the  summit  of  a  high  hill  over- 
hanging the  North  Sea,  and  had  an  awful  past  look, 
though  in  some  ways  it  had  been  modernized.  Thus 
the  ancient  courtyard,  which  had  been  the  martial 
gathering  place  of  the  clan,  was  now  a  lovely  gar- 
den; the  long  stone  stairs  leading  to  the  sleeping 
rooms  were  covered  down  the  center  with  a  strip 
of  handsome  crimson  carpet,  and  the  small  win- 
dows had  been  replaced  by  wide,  ample  ones  in  all 
the  dwelling  rooms. 

It  was  on  a  bed  drawn  to  an  open  casement  that 
Annie  found  Marion.  She  was  like  a  phantom,  the 
loveliest  ghost  of  a  human  creature  that  the  most 


Marion   Finds  the  Way   Home        271; 

heavenly  imagination  could  dream  of.  Her  small 
listening  face  was  innocent  and  fearless  as  that  of  a 
child;  her  eloquent  eyes — open  to  some  glorious 
vision — wlere  unconscious  of  earthly  presence;  her 
hands  lay  clasped  on  the  white  cover  as  if  in  adora- 
tion. The  transfiguration  of  divine  love  conquering 
death  was  over  her — she  was  speaking  in  low,  sweet 
tones  of  heaven,  and  heavenly  experiences;  and 

"  had  the  look  of  one 
To  whom  glad  news  is  sent 
From  the  far  country  of  her  home, 
After  long  banishment." 

In  this  borderland  of  being,  where  life  scarcely 
drew  breath,  she  remained  until  the  night  fell,  and 
the  full  moon  rose  gloriously  over  land  and  sea,  and 
flooded  the  silent  room.  Then  she  slowly  became 
conscious,  and  Crieff,  bending  tenderly  over  her, 
whispered,  "My  darling,  Annie  is  here;"  and  she 
answered  in  a  glad  voice,  "Come  to  me,  Annie;" 
and  Annie  knelt  down  at  her  side,  and  she  was  softly 
weeping,  but  she  could  not  speak.  For  oh,  that  two 
hours'  silent  watching  and  waiting  in  the  twilight  and 
moonlight  had  been  a  wondrous  voice  to  Annie 
Brodick.  Before  that  pure  soul,  with  its  heavenly 
eyes,  and  heavenly  hopes,  she  was  ashamed  and  sor- 
rowful. She  did  not  feel  worthy  to  touch  the  sen- 


272  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

sitive  lips,  hallowed  by  life-long  prayer,  or  to  clasp 
the  hands  that  had  already  let  fall  every  earthly 
thing.  Old  memories  sprang  up  to  strangle  her,  but 
at  length  she  found  power  to  say,  "  Marion !  Marion ! 
Why  did  you  not  send  for  me  before?  My  dear, 
my  dear,  I  had  forgotten,  I  had  forgotten." 

"  I  hear  that  you  have  been  what  people  call  for- 
tunate, Annie,  but  oh,  what  will  it  profit  if  you 
gain  all  the  world,  and  lose  your  soul  ?  What  will  it 
profit,  Annie?" 

"  Nothing !     Nothing,  Marion !  " 

"  Christ's  dear  love  is  the  only  good  there  is — 
and  if  you  but  once  drink  deep  of  that  divinest  an- 
guish, you  never  could  desire  the  empty  world  again. 
At  this  hour,  Annie " 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"  Christ  is  everything.  He  feeds  me  with  the 
bread  of  life,  and  covers  me  with  the  banner  of  His 
love.  He  gives  me  a  joy  past  utterance,  a  rest  un- 
speakable. Remember,  Annie!  You  must  come 
where  I  am  going.  I  shall  watch  for  you — do  not 
disappoint  me." 

"  Oh,  Marion,  if  death " 

"Death I"  she  said  with  a  celestial  smile — ';that 
deceitful  word  I  This  is  the  great  saying  that  men 
forget — death  Is  life" 


Marion   Finds   the  Way  Home        273 

She  moved  her  hand  a  little,  and  Crieff  clasped  it, 
and  the  shadows  of  night  grew  darker,  and  there 
was  not  a  sound  but  the  murmur  of  the  ocean  on  the 
pebbly  beach  below  them.  But  some  tender  Presence 
made  a  sweetness  in  the  room,  and  the  air  was 
thrilled  with  shadowy  sounds,  and  the  softest  stir — 
as  of  unseen  wings.  About  midnight  she  said  in  a 
voice  sweet  and  hollow — like  muffled  music  a  long, 
long  way  off — "  Now,  my  dear  Lord  Christ,  take  me 
Home;  into  Thy  Hands — into  Thy  Hands  I  com- 
mit  " 

But  whether  she  went  away  with  that  prayer  or 
not,  none  knew.  A  little  later  Crieff  rose  from  his 
knees  and  whispering  "  She  has  gone,"  left  the  room, 
and  Annie  was  alone  with  the  dead. 

Then  she  called  in  Marion's  maid,  and  dressed 
the  dead  for  her  burial,  as  she  had  dressed  her  for 
her  bridal,  and  her  heart  overflowed,  and  she  could 
not  forgive  herself  for  the  neglect  she  had  shown 
the  sweet  soul,  that  she  might  perhaps  have  helped 
and  comforted  in  her  last  painful  days.  Too  late! 
Forever  too  late! 

She  only  remained  long  enough  to  see  the  dear 
little  body  laid,  with  a  triumphant  hymn,  in  the 
windy  sepulcher  of  the  lords  of  Crieff.  She  could 
do  nothing  more,  except  weep  for  the  opportunities 


274  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

love  would  have  given  her,  but  which  were  now  lost 
to  her  forever.  The  earl  seemed  inconsolable,  and 
she  had  no  comfort  to  offer;  for  every  heart  knoweth 
its  own  bitterness,  and  a  stranger  intermeddleth  not 
with  it.  Yet,  just  as  she  was  leaving  him,  he  put 
into  Annie's  hand  a  few  lines,  which  doubtless  struck 
the  first  notes  of  comfort  for  him — 

"  Yet  there  are  lives  that  'mid  the  trampling  throng, 
With  their  prime  beauty  bloom  at  evensong. 
Hearts,  for  whom  God  has  judged  it  best  to  know — 
Only  by  heresy — sin,  and  want,  and  woe; 
Bright  to  come  hither,  and  to  travel  hence 
Bright  as  they  came,  and  wise  in  innocence." 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN 

THE  EARL  AND  ANNIE  BRODICK 

THE  emotions  and  experiences  of  this  sad  week  did 
not  fade  from  Annie's  memory  or  feelings;  they  bit 
deeper  and  deeper  into  her  consciousness.  She  would 
have  chosen  to  forget  them,  but  she  could  not,  for 
they  were  foreign  to  her  life,  and  she  was  only  half 
persuaded  of  their  general  usefulness.  "  Marion  Was 
so  impractical,"  she  thought;  "the  world  could  not 
go  on  if  people  lived  up  to  her  standard." 

She  hoped  when  she  reached  Glasgow  to  be  able 
to  throw  off  the  unnatural  atmosphere  in  which  she 
had  been  suffused  during  the  startling  episode  of 
Marion's  translation.  But  the  city — great  as  it  was 
— noisy  with  speech  and  traffic — swarming  with  ex- 
istences steeped  in  every  material  product — did  not 
banish  the  unearthly  senses  that  had  been  stimulated 
during  her  visit  to  Castle  Crieff.  Blatantly  present 
as  the  streets  were,  she  could  neither  see  nor  feel 
them,  for  the  great  mountains  shouldering  each 
other  up  to  heaven,  the  peaceful  corries,  hazy  with 
bluebells,  nestling  in  their  strength,  the  mighty 
ocean  stretching  away  to  the  occult  shores  of  the 

275 


276  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

poles,  were  the  backgrounds  of  her  thoughts,  even 
in  the  hot,  dusty  cab  which  carried  her  to  her  own 
house.  Surely  she  would  feel  at  home  with  herself 
there. 

No !  She  entered  it  like  a  prisoner  going  back  to 
his  cell;  its  gloom,  its  air  of  emptiness  and  neglect, 
the  black-eyed,  black-browed  woman  coming  from 
the  depths  of  the  cellar  kitchen  to  say  a  not  very 
pleasant  "  Home  already,!  "  only  accentuated  the 
large  air  of  freedom,  and  of  the  presence  of  God,  she 
had  left  among  the  mountains,  and  on  the  surging, 
singing  waters  of  loch  and  sea.  There  also  she  had 
seen  again  the  fishing  boats,  and  the  men  who  face 
life  and  death  in  them — men  silent  and  grave,  in  big 
sea  boots  and  guernseys,  with  the  salt  in  their  hair, 
and  the  breath  of  the  ocean  all  round  them,  and  the 
sounds  of  the  waves  in  their  voices.  The  men  she 
saw  in  Glasgow  were  different,  silk-hatted,  fine- 
tweeded,  well-laundered  men,  who  were  deaf  to  all 
the  voices  calling  her  from  high  places,  and  far- 
reaching  waters. 

The  next  day  she  wandered  aimlessly  about  her 
home,  trying  to  find  herself,  to  recall  herself  to  the 
life  she  must  live.  "  For  I  am  not  all  here,"  she 
whispered.  Nor  was  she.  Her  personality,  in  its 
finest  essences,  had  escaped  her  control;  she  had  left 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        277 

it  on  the  hills,  and  on  the  ocean,  and  in  the  old  room 
in  Crieff  Castle,  where  she  had  dwelt  with  angels. 
She  felt  that  she  must  bring  herself  from  every 
quarter  to  this  center  of  her  daily  life,  and  she  hailed 
with  delight  the  sight  of  Sarah  Lochrigg  mounting 
the  steps  to  her  door. 

"  I  am  requiring  your  help,  Sarah,  very  much," 
she  said,  as  she  untied  her  bonnet.  "  I  have  not  been 
able  to  do  anything  since  I  came  home." 

"  I  don't  wonder,  Annie.  Death  is  a  confounding 
circumstance;  it  makes  you  think,  whether  you  want 
to  or  not." 

u  You  could  not  be  with  Marion  and  care  about 
this  world,  and  you  know,  Sarah,  those  who  have 
to  fight  this  world  must  be  worldlike." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,  Annie.  It  seems 
to  me,  the  children  of  heaven  get  a  fair  share  of  all 
the  world's  good  that  is  going.  Look  at  your  father. 
His  new  wife  has  just  had  twenty  thousand  pounds 
left  her  by  an  uncle  she  had  never  seen,  yet  the  man 
has  been  grubbing  and  saving  for  her,  and  your 
father,  for  nearly  forty  years.  Tell  me  about 
Marion." 

Annie  did  so.  She  began  reluctantly,  and  then 
suddenly  grew  full  of  fervor,  and  described  in  lan- 
guage she  did  not  guess  was  at  her  command,  the 


278  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

last  few  hours  of  Marion's  life — "  life  that  was  not 
here,  and  yet  not  quite  there,"  she  said,  "  but  clearly 
life  in  the  presence  of  God's  waiting  messengers. 
Oh,  Sarah!  Sarah!  there  was  a  sweet,  awful  reality 
about  it  all.  I  cannot  forget.  I  wish  I  could." 

"  Why  do  you  wish  that?  You  are  most  unworthy 
to  have  seen  and  heard,  if  you  wish  you  had  not. 
I  would  be  feared  of  a  state  like  that.  Annie,  it  is 
easy  to  die  if  you  are  in  love  with  all  your  kindred. 
I  am  worrying  a  deal  anent  you,  and  your  father. 
He  isna  looking  well." 

"  I  saw  him  at  his  stepson's  Kirk  not  a  month, 
since,  and  he  never  looked  better." 

"  Weel,  I  was  just  dropping  a  remark.  I  am 
growing  old  mysel',  and  I  feel  age  in  all  my  bones, 
and  the  world  does  not  grip  me  as  it  did.  I'm  think- 
ing o'  giving  up  worldly  care  of  all  kinds.  You  have 
made  a  grand  stand,  and  can  do  finely  without  my 
help  and  guidance.  It  is  the  end  o'  the  fourth  year 
with  us,  and  if  you  are  in  my  mind,  we  will  settle 
our  affairs,  and  each  take  our  own  way.  You'll  do 
well  enough  wanting  me." 

"Aunt  Sarah,  you  have  been  my  counsellor  and 
my  staff,  and  I  shall  miss  you  sorely.  I  don't  know 
how  the  loss  of  your  name  may  affect  the  .business. 
If  I  explain  it,  no  one  will  take  my  explanation ;  and 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        279 

if  I  do  not  explain,  they  will  invent  reasons — the 
worst  they  can  think  of — for  your  withdrawal." 

"Why  inform  them  at  all?  I  will  let  my  name 
remain  in  the  firm — guaranteed  and  considered,  of 
course — guaranteed,  from  any  loss  or  obligation; 
considered,  as  to  its  value  in  the  way  o'  money.  For 
my  name  is  a  lucky  name,  and  it  will  be  worth  your 
paying  a  trifle  for  its  use." 

"  What  would  you  call  a  trifle,  Sarah?" 

"  Well,  a  bit  douceur  of  two  pounds  a  month,  or 
we  might  make  it  twenty-four  guineas  a  year — that 
would  give  me  twenty-five  pounds  a  year,  and  four 
shillings  over  for  clipping." 

"  For  clipping?  " 

"  Ay,  money  has  wings  and  will  fly  away,  if  you 
don't  clip  them,  and  charity  is  the  best  o'  clipping. 
I  shall  give  the  four  shillings  to  the  Kirk's  poor." 

"  Very  well.  We  will  say  twenty-four  guineas  a 
year,  Aunt.  Will  you  take  boarders  again?" 

"  I  would  like  to  see,  or  hear  tell,  o'  Mrs.  Sarah 
Lochrigg  doing  the  like  o'  that  now.  I  shall  live 
on  my  income — it  is  plentiful — and  dress  mysel'  in 
the  top  o'  your  fashions.  I  shall  buy  a  Victoria,  and 
a  pair  o'  handsome  ponies,  and  keep  a  man  to  drive 
me,  and  look  after  them.  Jean  Brodick  is  setting 
up  a  handsome  Victoria  and  one  good  carriage  horse. 


280  The    Hands  of   Compulsion 

I  fancy  a  pair  o'  ponies;  they  look  more  for  the 
money." 

"  So  Mrs.  Brodick  is  to.  have  a  carriage.  I  never 
thought  father  would  allow " 

"  Tut!  It  isn't  pinching  him  any;  Jean  has  her 
ain  means.  She'll  have  her  Victoria,  but  she  isn't 
so  popular  as  she  was — not  her  fault  though." 

"Whose  then?" 

"  The  Misses  Envy  and  Jealousy — ill-tempered, 
misdirected  auld  maids,  and  auld^wives,  as  you'll  find 
outside  o'  Satan's  home  parish." 

".They  will  doubtless  make  you  also  unpopular." 

"  I  dare  them.  Let  them  try  it  I  I  shall  wear  my 
English  broadcloths,  with  my  long  gold  chain,  and 
gold  bracelets,  and  sable  furs  in  cold  weather;  and 
the  best  o'  silks  and  poplins,  and  French  muslins  in 
warm  weather;  and  if  they  as  much  as  cheep  at  me, 
I'll  make  them  shamed  to  show  their  faces  again — 
either  at  Kirk  or  Market.  I  shall  ride  in  my  Victoria 
wherever  I  go.  I  am  o'er  weak  in  my  legs  to  walk 


now." 


The  smile  with  which  the  last  assertion  was  made 
was  not  a  weak  one,  and  Annie  laughed  heartily, 
"Will  you  have  an  hour's  rest  now,  Aunt?"  she 
asked. 

"An  hour's  rest!    What  are  you  talking  about? 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        281 

I  am  fairly  worn  out  with  hunger.  I  had  a  very 
early  breakfast,  and  nothing  since  it;  and  I  am  re- 
quiring plenty  o'  nourishing  food  at  my  time  o'  life. 
Will  is  to  be  in  Glasgow  to-day,  that  is  what  brought 
me  here.  He  says  he  has  news  for  me." 

"Why  did  he  not  write  his  news?" 

"  Because  he  is  wanting  to  see  me,  mysel' — that's 
not  an  extraordinar  fact,  I  think." 

"  I  hope  he  is  not  coming  here." 

"  You  cross,  unthankful  hizzy.  The  man  is  giv- 
ing you  his  life  and  his  love,  and  you  make  it  of 
no  more  consequence  than  the  dust  you  shake,  out 
o'  your  clothes.  The  last  time  he  called  on 
you " 

"  He  brought  me  a  present  of  Maltese  lace,  worth 
sixty  pounds." 

"Nonsense!  Will  never  wared  so  much  good 
money  on  lace  work — never!  " 

"I  say  it  was  worth  sixty  pounds  here;  and  I 
could  not  refuse  it,  and  I  hated  being  indebted  to 
Will,  and  so  the  lace  hurt  me." 

"Hurt  your  pride,  you  mean.  Sell  it;  the  sixty 
pounds  won't  hurt  your  purse." 

"  It  would  burn  me  like  fire.  I  would  not  sell  it 
if  I  needed  bread.  It  came  of  love,  and  I  am  not 
the  woman  to  sell  love  for  money." 


282  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  Poor  Will!  He  was  just  hoping  the  lace  might 
give  you  a  hint  o'  what  he  would  lose  ten  years  o' 
his  life  to  say  himsel'." 

"  Pshaw!  I  have  no  patience  with  a  lover  so  faint- 
hearted. It  is  absurd.  Will  has  known  me  all  his 
life,  and  he  is  afraid  of  me.  One  would  think  I 
was  some  new  kind  of  woman." 

"  To  Will  you  are  a  new  kind.  I  know  you  for 
the  same  old  ticket  of  a  woman  that  has  been,  and 
is,  and  will  be  forever.  Do  give  me  some  lunch, 
Annie.  I  have  a  tryste  wi'  the  lad  at  two  o'clock, 
and  I  wouldn't  disappoint  him  for  you  and  all  you 
are  worth." 

Rarely  had  Annie  seen  her  partner  so  ready  to 
chatter,  so  good-humored  and  light-hearted;  but 
when  she  returned  from  her  visit  to  Will  she  was 
silent  and  gloomy,  and  full  of  thought.  Annie  won- 
dered what  was  the  matter,  but  she  did  not  ask.  She 
knew  that  the  first  cup  of  tea  would  make  the  silent 
woman  communicative,  and  she  stirred  the  fire,  for 
it  had  become  rainy  and  chill,  and  Sarah  turned  her 
chair  in  front  of  it.  "  I  want  nothing  to  eat,  Annie," 
she  said;  "  it  is  the  blaze  on  my  cold  feet  I  am  need- 
ing. I'm  not  feeling  well." 

"  You  were  exceedingly  well  when  you  went  to 
Will's  ship." 


The   Earl    and  Annie   Brodick        283 

u  Ay,  but  I  got  a  chill  there — more  ways  than  one. 
I  got  a  chill  there,  Annie." 

"  Ships  are  cold  places." 

"  It  wasn't  the  ship." 

"  Surely  not  Will?  " 

"No,  no;  Will's  all  right.  Will  is  always  all 
right — it  is  poor  Roy  again." 

Annie  did  not  speak. 

"  I  am  saying,  Roy  is  in  trouble." 

"  Wanting  money,  I  suppose.  I  thought  the  won- 
derful Lucia  was  making  twenty,  fifty,  a  hundred 
pounds  a  week,  in  New  York." 

"  She  is  doing  all  that  yet — but  Roy  is  having  no 
good  o'  it — they  are  divorced." 

"Aunt  Sarah!" 

"  And  she  has  married  herself  again,  this  time  to 
some  Frenchman  who  sings  and  dances  wi'  her. 
Will  showed  me  a  New  York  paper  with  the  whole 
story  in  it — and  her  picture,  and  Roy's,  and  the 
Frenchman's,  and  Mrs.  Brian  O'Mara's  picture — 
all  of  them  decorating  the  miserable  details." 

"And  pray,  who  is  Mrs.  Brian  O'Mara?" 

"  She  is  a  widow  woman  infatuated  wi'  Roy,  and 
she  is  enormously  rich.  Her  husband  made  the 
money  out  o'  soap,  or  oil,  or  washing  powder,  or 
something  of  the  kind.  They  were  married  as  soon 


284  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

as  Roy  was  free,  and  went  immediately  to  Paris, 
where  Mrs.  O'Mara  has  a  fine  house." 

"  Mrs.  Morrison,  you  mean." 

"  No,  I  mean  what  I  say.  She  will  never  be  mis- 
tress to  Roy's  master." 

"Poor  Roy!" 

"What  for  are  you  pitying  the  man?" 

"  The  widow  woman " 

u'Tut!    She'll  be  a  good  provider." 

"  You  said  Roy  was  in  trouble." 

"  If  he  isn't  now,  he  will  be — a  widow  woman, 
forty  years  old,  with  a  full  purse,  and  carrying  it  in 
her  own  hand — what  can  Roy  expect?  He  will  be 
her  bought  slave,  Annie,  and  she  will  make  him  feel 
it — if  her  picture  does  not  tell  lies  about  her." 

"  Is  she  handsome?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  am  better  looking  mysel'. 
She  is  one  o'  them  thin-lipped  women  that  are  hewn 
out  o'  living  rock;  a  masterful-looking  body,  whose 
'  you-shallness '  could  not  be  hid  by  the  smirking 
smile  o'  her  lips.  I'll  warrant  anything  that  she 
is  common  and  ill-mannered;  Roy  will  find  her  out 
when  too  late  to  change  the  M  for  N  in  the  mar- 
riage service." 

"  I  am  not  sorry  for  Roy." 

"He  is  a  fool.     He  has  sold  himself  for  naught. 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        285 

He  treated  you  badly,  Annie,  but  whether  you  ever 
know  it  or  not,  you  are  sure  to  be  more  than  re- 
venged, as  all  who  suffer  wrong,  ultimately  are.  But 
my  auld  heart  aches,  lassie,  it  does  that." 

"  I  wonder  what  love  amounts  to?  Is  there  such 
a  thing?  Will  went  on  about  the  love  between  Roy 
and  his  wife  as  if  it  would  last  though  eternity.  He 
represented  them  to  you  as  ridiculously  in  love  with 
each  other." 

"  Ridiculously,  is  your  word,  Miss  Annie.  Will 
never  thinks  love  *  ridiculous ' — but  it  seems  the  ques- 
tion of  love  at  the  long  last  is  the  question  o'  money." 

"  Not  always,  Mrs.  Lochrigg." 

"Gey  often,  though." 

"  Everything  came  to  a  question  of  money  with 
Roy." 

"  Ay,  he  ought  to  have  been  born  with  handsful, 
capsful,  pocketslful  of  gold  and  silver.  He  was 
born  poor,  and  fond  o'  leisure.  That  is  a  conjunc- 
tion that  will  work  havoc  wi'  any  life." 

"  Did  Will  say  anything  about  me?  " 

"  Ay,  he  asked  how  you  were.  I  told  him  well, 
and  doing  well." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"What  more  are  you  expecting?  " 

"  Nothing  more." 


286  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"Well  then?" 

"  I  feel  sure  he  said  more." 

"  He  did  ask  if  I  thought  he  might  call  on  you. 
He  had  a  box  o'  lovely  corals.  I  wanted  them 
badly." 

"Did  you  tell  him  to  call?" 

"  Only  this  morning  you  said  you  hoped  he  would 
not  come  to  your  house." 

"  You  surely  did  not  repeat  those  words." 

"  I  said  you  were  busy,  getting  ready  to  open 
again — and  so  on — was  that  right?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  I  do  wish  he  had  given  me  the  corals.  They 
would  have  been  strikingly  bonnie  in  my  black  hair." 

"  Very  much  so." 

"  I  think  I'll  ask  him  for  them." 

"  I  certainly  would." 

"  What  did  he  say  when  you  told  him  I  was  busy?" 

"  Something  about  being  thankful  for  five 
minutes." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  that?  " 

"  I  said  I  would  be  here  to-night,  and  he  could 
call  on  me,  for  as  many  five  minutes  as  he  wanted 
to." 

"  Will  he  call  on  you  to-night?  " 

"  He  may — and  he  may  not." 


The   Earl    and  Annie   Brodick        287 

"  Sarah,  you  are  a  provoking  creature." 

"  So  are  you.  Here  is  a  poor  man,  breaking  his 
life  in  two  for  a  few  kind  words  from  you,  and  you 
are  fairly  too  mean  and  too  centered  in  Annie  Brod- 
ick to  give  even  a  Godspeed  you,  to  as  fine  a  sailor 
as  leaves  any  port  in  this  world.  I  am  loving  Will, 
and  it  hurts  me  to  see  you  scorn  love  as  true  as  ever 
honest  man  felt." 

"  I  do  not  scorn  Will.  I  do  not  like  him  to  make 
me  such  rich  presents." 

"  God  in  heaven !  What  do  you  like  ?  Roy  gave 
you  no  presents,  not  even  an  engagement  ring,  and 
you  made  some  mocking  remarks  to  me,  mysel',  on 
that  subject.  Will,  by  his  fine  faculty  o'  trading,  is 
able  to  give  you  laces  and.  jewelry,  and  your  pride  is 
in  an  insurrection  at  the  naming  o'  the  same,  and 
*  you  don't  like  handsome  presents.'  You  will  go  on 
snubbing  all  that  love  you,  Annie,  till  you  find  your- 
self in  an  empty,  loveless  world.  Gold  won't  com- 
fort you  then.  You'll  want  love,  though  it  be  only 
the  love  of  one  true  heart." 

"  I  have  yours." 

"  I  am  an  auld  woman." 

'  You  are  in  the  plenitude  of  your  youth.     That 
is  all." 

"  I  am  full  o'  the  disabilities  o'  fifty  odd  years.     I 


288  The    Hands  of   Compulsion 

need  what  love  I  have  for  my  am  necessities.  For- 
bye,  I  have  small  respect  for  women  that  cannot 
marry  themselves.  There's  something  wrong  with 
them." 

"Aunt,  you  told  me  yourself  that  money-making 
was  better  than  love,  and  a  husband.  Often  you 
said  that." 

"  Ay,  I  remember  saying  such  words.  I  knew  they 
were  untrue  when  I  said  them,  and  even  if  they  be 
true,  I  have  changed  my  mind  since  then.  When  I 
get  a  better  point  of  view  on  any  subject,  I  change 
my  position — that's  Sarah  Lochrigg.  Her  ideas 
move  on,  when  she  tells  them  to  do  so!  for  circum- 
stances alter  cases,  Annie,  and  I  think  it  is  now 
time  for  you  to  put  love-making  before  money- 
making." 

Will  did  not  call  that  night,  and  Sarah  went  home 
in  the  morning  in  a  mood  which  deserved  to  be  called 
"  cross."  It  left  Annie  unhappy  and  almost  hope- 
less. What  indeed  would  it  profit  if  she  made 
money  and  lost  all  the  love  that  should  be  hers? 
Mechanically  she  went  about  her  business,  but  her 
heart  was  wandering  up  and  down  the  world,  finding 
no  other  heart  on  which  it  could  rest.  In  the  after- 
noon Will  called.  He  said  he  was  "  going  out  with 
the  next  tide,  and  had  just  run  in  to  bid  her  good- 


The   Earl   and  Annie  Brodick        289 

bye."  She  had  a  desire  to  cry,  but  restrained  it,  and 
spoke  of  Roy's  trouble  and  disappearance,  giving 
Will  the  same  advice  as  she  had  given  Sarah — to  let 
Roy's  destiny  have  a  chance  with  him  for  once,  and 
see  if  experience  would  not  be  a  better  teacher  than 
help.  Will  thought  the  suggestion  reasonable,  and 
then  laid  down  on  the  table  a  box  containing  the 
corals,  remarking  as  he  did  so  that  "  They  were 
pretty,  but  of  small  value."  And  Annie  looked  at 
him  with  eyes  full  of  some  wistful  hope,  and  an- 
swered : 

"  It  is  the  thoughtfulness  and  the  liking,  Will, 
that  make  all  gifts  precious,"  and  she  gave  him 
both  her  hands,  and  he  held  them  in  his  own  and 
looked  at  her  with  Love's  compelling  glance.  For 
a  moment  a  kiss  trembled  in  the  space  between  them, 
but  it  did  not  materialize;  then  he  was  gone,  and 
she  fancied  the  door  shut  slowly  and  sorrowfully 
between  them. 

The  interview  had  not  lasted  fifteen  minutes,  but 
it  took  possession  of  Annie.  She  felt  the  day  was 
over,  and  she  hoped  the  night  would  clear  away  its 
disturbances  and  worries.  It  did  not.  She  could  not 
help  feeling  that  both  Sarah  and  Will  were  doing 
her  injustice — and  injustice  is  the  sharpest  of  heart 
wounds;  and  looking  at  the  beautiful  corals,  she  put 


290  The    Hands   of   Compulsion 

them  away  with  a  little  sobbing  cry  that  was  pitiful 
in  its  very  restraint. 

Sarah's  withdrawal  roused  in  her  something  like 
anger.  The  loss  of  her  money  would  compel  her 
business  to  narrower  limits,  but  on  the  whole  she  ap- 
proved that  move;  and  in  a  few  days  she  was  able 
to  assure  herself  that  her  life  would  be  both  easier 
and  pleasanter  when  she  managed  it  according  to 
her  own  ideas  and  desires.  Sarah  had  often  been 
authoritative  and  embarrassing,  and  she  had  over- 
heard one  of  her  best  patrons  say  she  "  was  glad 
that  Mrs.  Lochrigg  had  disappeared;  she  was  a  very 
forward  person."  It  was  quite  true.  Sarah  was 
"  forward  n;  and  her  ways  were  not  always  the  ways 
of  pleasantness  to  those  who  did  not  understand  the 
clarity  and  sincerity  of  her  nature;  and  who  very 
likely  did  not  care  anything  about  her  nature,  only 
desiring  to  be  allowed  to  make  their  own  selections 
without  interference. 

On  the  whole,  Annie  rose  bravely  to  the  new  con- 
ditions. She  told  herself  if  people  chose  to  throw 
her  off  without  any  good  reason  she  could  live  alone, 
and  be  content  with  such  consolations  as  her  life  and 
her  work  brought  her.  And  the  sense  of  injustice 
under  which  she  burned,  at  least  gave  her  strength 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        291 

and  courage,  and  enabled  her  to  assume  an  air  of 
satisfaction  and  cheerfulness,  until  the  assumption 
became  a  reality.  Also,  as  she  realized  the  sense  of 
her  independence,  she  found  a  different  kind  of  hap- 
piness— the  strong  delight  of  one  who  has  the  mas- 
tery of  herself  and  her  destiny.  And  this  is  a  feel- 
ing highly  conducive  to  health  and  beauty,  so  that 
Annie  had  never  been  lovelier  than  at  this  period  of 
her  life. 

One  evening  towards  the  end  of  the  year,  just  as 
she  was  sitting  down  to  her  solitary  cup  of  tea,  the 
Earl  of  Crieff  called.  She  was  glad  of  some  one  to 
talk  to,  and  she  asked  him  to  drink  a  cup  with  her. 
He  was  equally  glad  of  the  invitation,  for  he  was 
longing  to  speak  of  Marion,  and  who  could  under- 
stand such  a  conversation  as  well  as  Annie? 

"  Going  through  my  dear  wife's  desk,"  he  said, 
"  I  found  this  parcel  addressed  to  you,  Miss  Brodick, 
and  a  note  with  it,  asked  me  to  put  it  into  your  hands 
myself.  I  now  fulfill  this  obligation."  The  address 
was  in  Marion's  writing,  and  Annie  kissed  it,  and 
then  unlocking  a  desk,  placed  the  parcel  safely  within 
its  keeping.  Then  they  looked  at  each  other,  and 
were  both  astonished.  Annie  had  come  to  her  per- 
fect loveliness,  the  earl  was  wasted  and  appeared 


292  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

to  be  both  ill  and  unhappy.  For  a  few  moments  he 
was  silent,  then  he  poured  out  his  misery  with  an 
eager  passion. 

"  I  am  the  most  wretched  of  all  men,"  he  said  in 
low,  hopeless  tones.  "  Oh,  Miss  Brodick !  Oh, 
Annie!  eh?" 

"  Yes,  call  me  Annie,  Marion  did." 

"  Marion !  Marion !  Oh,  Annie,  if  I  could  call 
her  back  just  for  five  minutes!  If  I  could  call  her 
back  to  tell  her  what  a  brute  I  was,  and  that  my 
heart  is  breaking  for  her  forgiveness." 

"  You  were  never  unkind  to  Marion?    Oh,  no!  " 

"  I  was,  Annie.  I  was.  I  did  not  think  it  as  un- 
kindness  then.  I  thought  Marion  as  hardly  doing 
her  duty  to  me,  and  my  interests,  so  I  grumbled  at 
the  monthly  bills,  and  I  told  her  I  expected  her  to 
watch  the  housekeeper.  I  said  she  was  helping  my 
servants  to  squander  all  my  money,  and  so  ruin  my 
prospects,  and  oh,  Annie!  I  can  see  yet,  and  I  shall 
always  see,  her  small  pathetic  face  as  she  answered, 
'  I  did  my  best,  Jamie ;  I  will  try  and  do  better  this 
month,  dear.'  She  seemed  to  have  no  care  for  the 
battle  with  debt  I  was  fighting." 

"Poor  little  woman,  how  could  she?  Did  you 
ever  explain  the  condition  of  your  estate  to  her?  " 

"  Constantly,  every  day,  I  believe.     She  looked 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        293 

sad  and  puzzled,  and  said  she  was  sorry  she  did 
not  understand  about  rents  and  entails,  and  clear- 
ances and  such  things!  Oh,  I  cannot  forget!  I 
cannot  forget!  her  weary  eyes,  her  hopeless  efforts 
to  please  me.  Annie,  I  don't  think  I  was  hard  to 
please,  and  I  loved  her,  I  loved  her  so  much  that 
now  I  suffer  cruelly  for  every  little  neglect,  and  for 
every  cross  word  or  look  I  gave  her." 

"  Surely  you  were  not  neglectful  or  cross?" 

"  Indeed  that  was  not  my  intention,  but  I  did  not 
think  then  that  she  was  dying.  *  I  am  so  tired,  Jamie 
dear,'  she  would  say  in  excuse,  when  I  complained 
of  some  neglect,  '  so  tired  and  weak,  Jamie,'  and  now, 
Annie,  her  sad,  pitiful  eyes  haunt  me  day  and  night, 
and  in  every  room  I  hear  her  thin,  childlike  voice — 
'  I  am  so  tired,  Jamie  ' !  My  God,  it  is  awful !  This 
is  remorse,  Annie,  and  it  is  hell !  " 

"  Remorse  is  hell,  but  repentance  puts  remorse 
far  off." 

"  All  my  life  is  broken  up,  and  my  people  shake 
their  heads  and  say,  '  Poor  lady!  poor  lady! '  as  if 
in  some  way  I  was  to  blame  for  her  death." 

"  Her  last  look  was  yours.  The  last  words  she 
said  to  any  mortal  were  said  to  you." 

"  And  they  were  sweet  with  love — *  Good-bye, 
dear,  good-bye ! '  Oh,  Annie,  Annie,  she  has  left 


294  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

me  forever,  and  I  shall  be  lonely  and  miserable  as 
long  as  I  live."  And  he  rose  and  walked  about  the 
room  to  his  lamentings — "She  is  dead!  My  heart 
is  in  her  grave!  Oh  for  one  word  with  her!  only 
one  word!  "  And  he  really  suffered,  for  though  no 
longer  a  passionate  lover,  he  was  a  man  of  strong 
habits,  and  every  household  habit  had  been  broken 
by  Marion's  death.  "  I  did  not  think  she  was 
really  very  ill  until  after  the  birth  of  her  child,"  he 
cried  in  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  self-accusation. 

"  I  never  heard  of  the  child,"  said  Annie. 

"  It  was  only  a  girl,"  he  answered,  with  that  un- 
conscious indifference  natural  to  the  male  represent- 
ative of  old  families  and  large  estates.  "  I  think 
she  was  glad  when  it  died.  She  only  lived  six  weeks 
after  it." 

"  The  child  is  better  dead  than  left  to  strangers 


or  servants." 


"  No.  I  should  have  seen  the  little  Lady  Marion 
had  all  things  necessary  for  her  welfare  and  pleasure. 
Oh,  Annie,  I  am  exceedingly  sorrowful." 

It  was,  however,  fortunate  that  the  earl  was  his 
own  best  comforter.  All  he  wanted  was  some  per- 
son to  listen  to  his  accusations  against  himself,  and 
considerately  take  the  extreme  edge*  off  them.  Annie 
understood  this  need,  and  gave  as  much  of  such  com- 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        295 

fort  as  she  conscientiously  could.  But  she  was  glad 
when  he  went  away,  and  her  assent  to  his  request  that 
he  might  call  on  her  when  he  came  to  Glasgow,  was 
a  decidedly  cool  one.  For  he  had  told  her  he  was 
at  the  Crieff  Mansion  in  Edinburgh  for  the  Winter, 
and  came  once  a  week  to  Glasgow  on  business. 

"  I  am  just  as  well  off  without  friends,"  sighed 
Annie,  as  soon  as  she  was  alone;  "  when  they  come 
my  way,  they  are  wanting  something  from  me.  Will 
wants  love,  Crieff  wants  sympathy,  and  Aunt  Sarah 
used  me  to  help  her  make  money.  Marion  was  kind- 
always,  but  then,  I  was  kind  to  her."  With  these 
words,  she  turned  to  the  desk  and  took  from  it  the 
parcel  Marion  had  sent  her.  She  found  in  it  a  letter 
full  of  love  and  heavenly  wishes,  and  the  bracelets 
set  with  pearls,  the  sapphire  locket,  the  jeweled 
Geneva  watch,  and  the  diamond  and  ruby  rings  she 
had  worn  during  her  Summer  in  Arran — "  these 
were  her  own,  my  Lord  Crieff  did  not  buy  them,  nor 
did  they  ever  belong  to  the  Crieff  jewelry.  She 
knew  he  would  marry  again,  and  she  wanted  me, 
rather  than  some  strange  woman,  to  have  them. 
Safely  will  I  keep  them,  Marion  my  dear,"  and  the 
last  words  she  uttered  on  this  subject  were  not  flatter- 
ing ones — "  I  hope  he  will  never  come  here  again 
with  his  wounded  heart;  if  he  does,  I'll  agree  with 


296  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

h 

him;  it  stands  to  reason  he  is  not  abusing  himself 
.without  some  cause." 

But  Crieff  came  the  next  week,  and  many  weeks 
afterwards,  and  somehow  Annie  got  used  to  his 
visits,  and  never  carried  out  her  intention  of  "  agree- 
ing "  with  him.  The  man's  remorse  was  genuine, 
it  appealed  to  her  on  this  ground.  And  during  the 
Winter,  which  was  dree  and  severe,  he  was  her  only 
visitor,  for  Sarah  had  a  tendency  to*  rheumatism 
that  kept  her  throng  watching  it,  and  Will  was  on  a 
long  trading  voyage  to  Australia  and  homeward 
ports.  As  for  her  father,  she  never  saw  him  except 
there  was  some  extraordinary  religious  meeting  at 
Mr.  Saunders'  Kirk.  Then  she  went  there  late,  and 
sitting  in  the  back  seats,  watched  the  Deacon  during 
the  service;  but  was  among  the  first  to  leave  the 
building  when  it  was  over.  Certainly  Deacon  Brod- 
ick  never  had  the  slightest  suspicion  of  her  presence, 
but  in  some  measure  these  speechless  interviews  sat- 
isfied the  hunger  of  her  heart. 

Earl  Crieff,  however,  gave  her  plenty  of  reasons 
for  thinking  a  good  deal  about  him.  In  the  first 
place,  she  watched  with  scornful  curiosity  the  quick 
natural  death  of  what  he  called  "  his  undying  re- 
morse." At  first  he  had  been  able  to  make  the  small, 
white  pleading  face,  the  pathetic  eyes,  and  the  weak 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        297 

childish  form,  so  startlingly  present,  that  Annie  had 
trembled  with  him;  but  as  the  weeks  went  on,  his 
pictures  of  the  dead  Marion  became  like  half-ef- 
faced pastels,  vague  and  shadowy,  but  always  sweet 
and  smiling.  In  the  second  place,  Annie  noticed  a 
change  equally  great  in  the  bereaved  man's  manner 
toward  herself.  He  began  to  dress  with  great  care 
when  he  called,  he  brought  her  expensive  flowers,  he 
held  her  hands  longer,  and  more  affectionately  than 
was  necessary,  and  in  a  score  of  ways  showed  that 
he  was  simply  waiting  till  the  conservative  time  of 
his  mourning  was  over  in  order  to  make  straight- 
forward love  to  her.  In  fact,  Crieff  wished  her  to 
understand  this  much  and  Annie  required  no  words 
to  explain  his  wishes.  She  knew  that  she  would 
have  an  early  opportunity  to  become  Countess  Crieff 
if  she  wished  to  do  so — did  she  wish  it?  " 

Sometimes  she  did.  She  thought  of  the  triumph 
it  would  give  her  over  all  who  pitied,  or  snubbed,  ad- 
vised, or  made  excuses  for  her.  A  coronet,  and  the 
social  consideration  and  pleasures  it  would  bring, 
was  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to  her.  But  Will 
Morrison  interfered.  She  had  found  out  that  she 
loved  Will,  and  when  she  balanced  the  two  men  the 
sailor  stood  far  closer  to  her  than  the  earl.  This 
heart  controversy  was  a  good  thing  for  Annie  Brod- 


298  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

ick;  it  made  money  and  rank  frequently  stand  aside 
for  love,  and  so  prevented  her  from  becoming  sub- 
dued to  the  material  objects  she  worked  for. 

One  day  when  the  Spring  had  fairly  opened,  and 
Annie  was  busy  with  its  fashions  and  demands,  a 
lady  came  into  her  showroom  and  asked  for  Miss 
Brodick.  Annie  introduced  herself,  and  her  visitor 
smilingly  sat  down,  and  said  she  would  wait  until 
there  was  more  leisure,  as  her  wants  could  not  be 
hurried.  "  I  am  of  a  nervous  temperament,"  she 
added  with  another  smile,  "  and  so  you  must  give  me 
my  own  time  and  way."  And  Annie  nodded  her 
head,  and  answered,  "  You  shall  have  all  of  your 
own  time  and  way  you  wish." 

In  an  hour  they  were  alone  in  the  room,  and 
Annie  turned  to  her  visitor.  "  I  can  now  give  you 
all  my  attention,"  she  said,  "  and  whatever  you 
wish." 

"  I  wish — I  wish — Annie,  dear  Annie !  " 

Then  Annie  understood,  as  in  a  flash  of  light,  that 

she  was  speaking  to  her  stepmother.  "  You  are  Mrs. 
•p  >> 

"  No,  no!    Not  that  name,  please." 
"  It  is  impossible  to  give  you  the  other." 
"  I  know.    I  anit  not  expecting  it — but,  Annie,  you 
might  call  me  Jean,  as  most  people  do." 


The   Earl   and  Annie   Brodick        299 

"Why  did  you  come  here?" 

"  For  more  than  one  reason,  but  the  main  one  is 
your  father.  Ever  since  Sarah  left  the  business,  he 
has  worried  night  and  day  about  you." 

"  What  for?  I  do  better  without  Mrs.  Lochrigg." 

"  No  doubt  you  do.  Annie,  if  you  would  try  and 
love  me  a  little — if  you  would  give  me  a  chance  to 
win  your  love  " — and  in  her  eagerness  she  rose,  laid 
her  hand  on  Annie's  arm,  and  lifting  a  loving,  plead- 
ing face  to  hers,  said  softly — "  Try  me,  dear — be  just 
to  me,  Annie;  your  father  says  you  would  be  just 
if  every  other  virtue  failed.  I  think  you  would  soon 
learn  to  put  up  with  me — perhaps,  in  time,  you  would 
love  me." 

It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  earnest,  affection- 
ate woman.  Annie  took  her  hand,  and  kept  it  in 
her  own.  "  Come  into  my  parlor,"  she  said,  "  and 
we  will  have  a  cup  of  tea,  and  talk  the  subject  over." 
For  the  subject  had  suddenly  assumed  pleasant  pos- 
sibilities to  Annie.  And  wherf1  Jean  finally  made 
some  tearful  complaints  of  Leslie  Kerr,  and  Mrs. 
McLean,  and  others,  Annie  was  quite  ready  to  take 
her  part. 

"  You  see,  Annie,"  said  Jean,  "  your  father  and  I 
have  kept  silence  about  you  and  your  affairs,  one 
way  or  another,  and  Leslie  Kerr  and  that  ill  woman 


300  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

McLean,  Jane  McFarlane,  Isabel  Gowe,  and  others 
have  taken  to  pitying  you,  because  pity  implies  all 
sorts  of  unkind  things  about  your  father  and  my- 
self. *  Poor  Annie  Brodick ! '  is  their  slogan,,  and 
your  father  is  cruel  and  selfish,  and  I  am  sly,  and 
have  the  doited  auld  Deacon  under  my  feet,  and  so 
*  poor  Annie  has  a  dour  hard  fight  wi'  a  cold  world.' 
That  is  one  o'  their  ways  o'  talking.  Then  likewise 
they  are  sure  I  have  got  all  o'  your  father's  money 
in  my  power,  and  when  my  uncle  left  me  twenty 
thousand  pounds,  they  snickered  and  giggled  at  the 
idea  and  cried,  '  A  likely  story  indeed.'  If  honest  in- 
quiry was  made  the  uncle  would  neither  be  found 
nor  heard  tell  of;  and  the  like  o'  such  slandering 
talk.  And  your  father  says  tut,  and  it's  not  worth 
minding,  but  I  do  mind  it — I  do  that." 

"  Poor  dear  1  I  know  you  feel  it.  Why  do  you 
not  set  Sarah  on  them?" 

"Well,  Sarah  may  be  my  friend,  but  she  is  very 
thick  with  all  o'  them.  Since  she  set  hersel*  up  to 
be  the  leader  o'  social  affairs  in  our  town,  I  have 
lost  all  favor.  I  was  President  of  the  Dorcas  So- 
ciety, and  the  Woman's  League,  and  the  Women's 
Christian  Association,  but  Sarah  sits  in  my  chair 
at  all  the  three  clubs  now." 

'  To  be  sure.  Sarah  will  always  have  the  chair 
wherever  she  goes." 


The   Earl    and  Annie   Brodick        301 

"And  lately,  Annie,  there  has  been  queer  talk 
about  Earl  Crieff  and  yourself.  Sarah  is  boasting 
that  you  will  be  a  countess  ere  the  year  is  gone  by, 
and  your  father  is  troubled  in  his  heart  about  what 
is  said,  and  I  am  troubled  too,  Annie." 

"What  for  are  you  troubled,  Jean?" 

"  For  the  sake  o'  poor  Will  Morrison — that's  all. 
But  you  know  how  talk  grows,  the  clash  and  claver 
frets  your  father,  and  it  will  fairly  break  the  heart 
o'  poor  Will — and  he'll  hear  it  before  his  feet  are 
on  dry  ground." 

"  As  to  the  earl,  Jean,  that  is  my  affair.  I  can 
sort  it  as  soon  as  I  like,  but  I  will  suffer  no  one  to 
say  a  word  against  either  father  or  you.  I  have 
been  treated  by  both  of  you  better  than  I  deserve. 
You  had  cause  to  speak  ill  of  me,  but  you  have  never 
done  so." 

"  Never  one  word,  Annie." 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do,  Jean?" 

"  I  wish  you  to  come  to  Arran  on  Friday — not  too 
soon  in  the  day — and  go  with  your  father  and  my- 
self to  *  a  Penny  Reading  at  the  Woman's  Literary 
Club.'  You  can  dress  fine  for  that  occasion,  and 
look  the  whole  crowd  o'  envious  women  down." 

"  I  will  come,  Jean." 

"  I  shall  not  tell  your  father  I  have  been  here." 

"  I  won't  name  your  visit,  Jean ;  but  I  thank  you 


302  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

for  it.  Why  do  you  want  me  to  come  late  in  the 
day?" 

"  I  have  a  good  reason.  I  hope  you  will  find  it 
out.  And,  dear  Annie,  do  give  yourself  a  chance  to 
love  me." 

"  I'll  love  you  now,  and  I'll  love  you  more  and 
more  as  days  and  weeks  go  by." 

"  Thank  you,  Annie !  I  will  do  all  that  is  right, 
dear." 

"  I  know  you  will.    So  will  I." 


CHAPTER   THIRTEEN 

EAST  OR  WEST,    HOME  IS   BEST 

ON  the  Friday  following  Annie  Brodick  arose  to  go 
to  her  father.  But  it  cannot  be  said  her  return  home 
was  in  any  sense  that  of  a  prodigal  daughter.  She 
had  spent  nothing  foolishly,  she  had  built  up  a  pros- 
perous business,  she  had  acquired  money  and  prop- 
erty, she  was  in  radiant  health,  and  sincerely  glad 
at  heart.  Only  Love  compelled  her.  It  was  Love 
that  made  her  dress  with  such  richness  and  taste. 
Love  that  filled  both  her  hands  with  gifts.  Love 
that  made  her  sing  so  happily  as  she  packed  her 
trunk,  and  ran  lightly  downstairs  to  the  waiting 
cab.  She  had  arranged  her  arrival  as  Jean  desired — • 
towards  evening — and  no  one  noticed  the  veiled  lady 
who  drove  so  quietly  away.  Jean,  however,  was 
watching  for  her,  and  their  meeting  was  as  pleasant 
as  two  happy  women  could  make  it.  Half-an-hour 
afterwards,  the  Deacon  opened  the  garden  gate,  and 
they  heard  him  call  "  Jean !  Jean !  "  a  little  im- 
patiently. 

"  I  aye  go  as  far  as  the  gate  to  meet  him,"  ex- 
plained Jean,  "  but  we  will  just  let  him  enter  his  lane 

303 


304  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

this  night.  So  he  opened  the  door  with  a  trifle  of 
fret  on  his  face,  and  then  he  saw  Jean  and  Annie 
sitting  affectionately  together.  Love  and  astonish- 
ment made  him  stand  still  and  silent,  then  Annie 
rose  and  went  hurriedly  to  meet  him. 

"Father!  father!"  she  cried,  "I  have  been  all 
wrong,  father,  forgive  me !  "  and  she  stretched  out 
both  her  hands  to  him.  He  took  them  with  pas- 
sionate tenderness,  and  drew  her  to  his  breast. 

"  I  forgave  thee  years  ago." 

"  And  you  will  love  me  again,  as  you  used  to  love 
me?" 

"  I  never  stopped  loving  thee — not  for  one 
moment." 

Then  there  were  some  whispered  words  and  kisses 
— not  many — for  Love  wants  no  excuses  and  no  ex- 
planations. Love  casts  the  whole  wrong  into  some 
abyss  of  memory,  and  forgets  it  has  ever  been.  In 
a  few  moments  they  turned  happy  faces  to  Jean, 
and  going  forward  together  kissed  her.  And  the 
blessedness  of  the  peacemakers  that  night  filled  the 
old  Brodick  House  with  a  new  and  heavenly  joy. 

While  Jean  ordered  the  tea  table,  Annie  walked 
with  her  father  round  the  place.  There  had  been 
many  changes,  and  Annie  noticed  and  approved 
them  all — the  new  stable  and  Jean's  horse  and  Vic- 


East  or  West,    Home   is   Best         305 

toria — the  new  well  house — and  the  new  back  gate. 
Fresh  trees  had  been  set  out,  and  a  large  berry  patch 
put  in  cultivation — and  a  little  glass  house  in  which 
Jean  kept  her  rare  flowers  in  the  Winter,  and  the 
Deacon  prepared  his  early  vegetables — all  common 
things  enough,  but  it  is  the  common  things  that  are 
the  great  things  in  our  daily  life,  and  Annie  was  full 
of  interest,  and  the  Deacon  of  satisfaction.  He 
held  her  hand  as  they  walked  and  talked,  just  as  he 
had  done  when  she  was  a  little  lassie,  and  when  Jean 
came  to  tell  them  "  tea  was  ready  "  she  took  Annie's 
other  hand,  and  thus  they  brought  her  to  hearth  and 
table  between  them. 

After  tea  the  Deacon  went  to  the  byre  and  the 
stable  to  look  after  "  the  beasties  "  and  to  smoke  his 
pipe,  and  Jean  and  Annie  walked  about  the  garden 
— then  in  all  the  sweet  loveliness  of  Spring-,  with 
a  full  May  moon  above  it.  The  perfume  would 
have  been  almost  intoxicating  but  for  the  sharp 
tang  and  savor  of  the  fresh  salt  breeze  from  the 
sea ;  but  at  that  hour  the  incense  which  so  fitly  sweet- 
ened their  thanksgiving  for  restored  love,  was  not 
specially  noticed.  Annie  wanted  to  know  why  Jean 
had  asked  her  to  come  rather  late  and  avoid  notice, 
and  Jean  answered: — 

"  As  I  told  you,  there  is  an  entertainment  at  the 


306          The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

Woman's  Club  to-night,  and  I  did  not  want  any  one 
to  know  you  were  in  town — especially  Mrs.  Loch- 
rigg,  and  it  is  hard  work  keeping  anything  from  her 
eyes  and  ears." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  Sarah.  I  do  not  mind  her 
ways." 

"  But  she  would  have  told  Will,  and  that  would 
spoil  everything." 

"Will  Morrison?" 

"  Yes." 

"Is  he  here?" 

"  I  think  so.  He  reached  Glasgow  this  afternoon, 
and  there  was  a  telegram  from  him,  promising  to  be 
at  the  entertainment  to-night.  He  is  our  great 
singer,  you  know." 

"Singer I  Will  Morrison  sing!   I  am  astonished." 

"  Did  you  never  hear  him?  " 

"  Never." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  And  if  Will  knew  you 
were  in  the  hall  to-night,  he  would  be  dumb;  and 
that  would  be  ten  thousand  pities,  for  he  is  a  singer 
in  ten  thousand;  and  if  he  should  take  a  violin  in  his 
hand  it  would  not  be  catgut  he  touched — Oh,  no! 
Will  would  play  upon  your  heartstrings." 

"However,  wherever,  did  he  learn?" 

"  The  music  and  the  song  were  in  his  heart,  and 


East  or  West,   Home   is   Best         307 

at  sea  he  found  plenty  of  time  to  practice.  If  he 
does  not  know  you  are  present,  you  will  both  see  and 
hear  the  real  Will  Morrison — but  if  he  knows " 

"Oh,  he  shall  not  know  I" 

"  I  do  not  want  Sarah  to  know  either.  She  would 
make  a  speech  about  your  return,  and  be  sure  to 
say — good-naturedly,  of  course — something  to  make 
your  ears  burn." 

The  little  plan  pleased  Annie,  and  she  fell  readily 
into  its  spirit  and  motive.  They  pledged  the  Deacon 
to  silence,  and  then  went  early  to  the  hall  and  slipped 
without  notice  into  their  seats.  The  place  was 
soon  crowded,  and  at  eight  o'clock  the  curtain  went 
up,  and  showed  them  the  platform  with  the  per- 
formers on  it,  and  Mrs.  Lochrigg  in  the  President's 
chair.  She  was  richly  and  fitly  gowned,  and  rose 
with  abounding  self-possession  and  opened  the 
meeting. 

But  among  the  performers  there  was  no  Will 
Morrison,  and  Annie  was  disappointed.  She  lis- 
tened listlessly  to  a  woman  singing  "  I'm  O'er  Young 
to  Marry  Yet,"  and  to  several  young  and  middle- 
aged  men  reciting — for  all  Scotchmen  sing  or  re- 
cite their  national  loves  and  glories — and  then  she 
heard  the  President  making  an  apology  for  "  the 
vocalist  whom  they  all  loved,  Captain  Will  Morri- 


308  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

son,  who  had  promised  to  be  with  them,  but  was 
not — but  Will's  not  to  be  blamed,"  she  continued, 
as  she  fell  into  her  usual  familiar  eloquence;  "  if  the 
man  was  driving  a  lubberly  engine,  on  a  straight  steel 
rail,  with  steam  enough  to  blow  her  to  pieces  under 
his  hand,  we  should  have  the  right  to  expect  him  on 
schedule  time — prompt — but  when  he's  driving  a 
contrary  ship,  against  winds  shifting  and  unruly,  and 
waves  in  tantrums  and  tempers,  we  be  to  make  every 
allowance  for  the  same;  for  a  ship  is  like  a  womar, 
you  never  know  where  you  have  her,  and  our  Will's 
ship  at  least  has  a  woman's  name,  for  she's  called 
The  Lass  of  Arran.  Perhaps  there  is  some  lass  in 
this  meeting  who  knows  why  she  is  so  called.  I  do 
not,  and  who  can  tell  Will  Morrison's ?  " 

At  this  interrupted  question,  Will  suddenly  ap- 
peared. He  said  a  few  words  to  the  President — 
who  assumed  her  most  presidential  air,  and  then 
added,  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  it  is  just  as  I  ex- 
pected, the  ship  was  to  blame,  of  course — the  man 
was  right — he  always  is  right.  We  all  of  us  know 
that  much — or  ought  to.  The  Captain  will  now 
give  us  the  song  he  has  been  keeping  us  on  the  watch 
and  the  wait  for." 

Annie  watched  the  Captain,  and  could  hardly  be- 
lieve her  eyes.  Will  Morrison  shy  I  Who  said  it? 


East  or  West,   Home   is   Best         309 

Who  thought  it?  He  came  forward  with  an  easy, 
commanding  manner,  bowed  with  beaming  smiles 
to  the  cheering  audience,  then  went  to  the  piano, 
struck  a  few  clear  chords,  and  as  he  was  walking 
forward  again  began  singing  in  thrilling,  resonant 
tones — 

"I  learnt  to  walk  to  the  sound  of  the  waves, 

The  shingly  beach  along; 
The  salt  spray  dashed  against  the  pane; 
That  was  my  cradle  song. 

"  The  sea  bird's  cry  was  far  before 

The  thrush's  song  to  me; 
O,  my  heart  still  longs  and  listens  for 
The  music  of  the  sea ! 

"To  drag  nets  full  of  gleaming  fish 

Under   the   silver   moon ; 
To  watch  ships  on  the  far  blue  line, 
Grow  nearer  in  the  noon; 

"  To  make  friends  with  the  storm,  instead 

Of   a  city's  din,   for  me; 
My  heart  still   longs  and  listens  for 
The  music  of  the  sea ! " 

The  Deacon  had  once  called  such  reunions  "  in- 
credible misery,"  but  he  had  been  in  course  of  edu- 
cation since  that  time,  and  no  one  among  the  crowd 
of  delighted  listeners  expressed  themselves  more 
enthusiastically  than  Robert  Brodick.  He  led  the 
clamor  for  the  encore,  and  was  hardly  then  satisfied. 


310  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

Annie  was  quiet;  she  could  not  talk;  she  had  this  new 
man  to  consider.  It  was  a  Will  of  whom  she  had 
never  dreamt — but  she  liked  him.  He  was  hand- 
some, she  had  always  seen  that;  his  uniform  was 
handsome,  and  became  him  perfectly;  that  was  noth- 
ing strange;  his  gentle  voice,  and  beaming  smile, 
these  things  were  familiar;  it  was  his  air  and  man- 
ner that  astonished  her.  There  was  no  trace  of 
shyness  in  anything  he  did  or  said.  He  walked  to 
the  front  of  the  platform  as  calmly  as  if  he  was  on 
his  own  deck,  and  his  attitude  was  that  of  a  man  con- 
fident of  himself,  and  expressing  that  confidence  by 
a  manner  easy  and  graceful,  with  a  touch  of  old- 
fashioned  courtesy  in  it. 

She  told  herself  she  could  wish  nothing  changed 
about  him,  and  when,  in  response  to  urgent  demands, 
he  sang  two  more  songs,  she  sighed  with  pleasure 
and  relief  to  find  they  were  without  a  trace  of  that 
comic  element  which  is  the  great  vocal  temptation 
of  inexperienced  men.  Will  kindled  a  tempestuous 
patriotism  as  he  sang  of  the  mariners 

"  that   guard   our   native   seas, 
Whose  flag  has  braved  a  thousand  years, 
The  battle  and  the  breeze: — " 

and  finally  sent  every  one  home  with  hearts  full  of 
kindness  humming, 


East  or  West,    Home   is   Best         311 

"  Should    auld    acquaintance    be    forgot 
And  days  o'  lang  syne." 

Then  came  Will's  surprise.  When  he  reached  the 
door,  the  Deacon  with  his  wife  and  daughter  stood 
in  the  center  of  a  little  crowd  of  friends,  and  Annie 
stepped  forward  to  greet  him,  to  praise  him,  to 
thank  him  for  the  delight  he  had  given  her.  She 
understood  now  his  weakness,  and  she  did  not  per- 
mit him  to  fall  into  it.  Her  kindness  and  pretty 
familiarities  kept  him  at  his  normal  pitch,  and  when 
Sarah  had  exhausted  her  exclamations,  he  proposed 
the  party  should  go  to  Lochrigg  House  for  supper. 

"  Indeed,  No !  "  answered  Sarah.  "  I  am  not  pre- 
pared for  such  an  invasion." 

"I  am!  "  cried  Jean;  "  it  will  be  an  extraordinar 
pleasure  and  compliment.  Robert  will  drive  Sarah 
and  myself  home,  and  there's  nothing  to  hinder 
Annie  and  Will  sauntering  up  the  hill  in  the  moon- 
light. It  is  a  heavenly  night  to  loiter  a  wee  in." 

Then  with  a  happy  manifest  hurry,  Will  took 
Annie's  hand  and  slipped  it  under  his  arm,  and  they 
walked  away  together — walked  away  consciously 
into  Loveland,  and  fearlessly  faced  its  delights  and 
its  dangers.  Song  had  enchanted  Will,  its  influence 
was  still  over  him;  he  was  in  a  condition  where  song 
and  love  make  a  man  eloquent;  and  before  he  had 


312  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

time  to  consider  anything  but  his  great  love,  and  its 
need  of  expression,  he  was  pouring  out  his  heart's 
wealth  of  long-nursed  affection.  His  words  were 
sweet  and  eloquent  to  Annie,  and  though  she  was 
speechless,  she  gave  him  signs  of  her  sympathy  that 
he  could  not  mistake.  At  last  he  asked: 

"Annie,  dearest  girl  on  earth,  have  you  heard, 
do  you  know  what  my  words  mean?  " 

"  Will,"  she  answered,  "  dear  Will,  I  have  been 
waiting  for  you  to  say  these  very  words  all  of  two 
years.  I  know,  Will,  all  that  you  mean,  and  I  am 
proud  and  happy  to  know  it." 

Then  the  glorious  walk  was  a  series  of  interludes 

whose  joy  cannot  be  written  down,  for 

i 

"  Love's   the    shyest   bird 

Mortal  ever  heard, 
Listen  rapt  and  silent  when  he  sings; 

Do  not  seek  to  see, 

Lest  the  vision  be, 
But  a  flutter  of  departing  wings." 

Supper  was  nearly  over  when  they  reached  home, 
but  Jean  was  a  sweet  hostess;  she  declared  "  it  was 
a  pity  for  all  who  could  not  linger  till  midnight  un- 
der such  a  sky.  If  Sarah,  herself  and  the  Deacon 
had  not,  all  of  them,  been  under  the  thumb  of  rheu- 
matism, they  would  have  loitered  a  while  also  " — and 


East  or  West,    Home   is   Best         313 

so  on.  But  her  pleasant  excusing  was  not  necessary, 
for  Will  went  at  once  to  Annie's  father. 

"  Deacon,"  he  said,  "  Annie  has  just  promised  to 
be  my  wife,  and  we  are  seeking  your  consent  and 
blessing.  God  knows,  I  never  expected  such  an  as- 
tonishing happiness." 

"  Annie  has  chosen  well,"  answered  the  father. 
"  I  could  not  wish  her  a  better  husband.  God  bless 
you  both !  "  and  he  gave  his  hand  to  Will,  and  lifted 
Annie's  lovely  face  and  kissed  it.  Sarah  whimpered 
a  little,  and  Jean  smiled,  and  the  lovers  tried  to  eat 
some  supper,  but  did  not  succeed  very  well. 

"  You  may  take  away  your  dishes,  Jean,"  said 
Sarah.  "  Eating  is  too  common  a  thing  for  folks 
in  the  glorified  condition  o'  newly  engaged  lovers. 
And  order  my  Victoria,  Jean.  I  am  going  home  to 
my  bed,  for  I'll  be  here  early  in  the  morning.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  Miss  Annie,  ere  she  becomes 
Mrs.  Morrison." 

After  Sarah's  departure  the  Deacon  went  into 
the  garden  for  half-an-hour  to  "  bethink  himself," 
and  Jean  and  Annie  went  to  the  room  Jean  had  fur- 
nished for  her  stepdaughter  with  every  suitable  com- 
fort and  beauty.  They  were  too  wide  awake  to 
sleep,  and  longed  for  a  little  private  talk  on  the 
great  event  that  had  occurred.  Throwing  wide  the 


314  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

casements  to  let  the  scent  of  the  lilacs  fill  the  pretty 
place,  Jean  said : 

'  You  are  very  happy,  Annie,  and  you  are  going 
to  be  far  happier,  my  dear  lassie." 

"  I  believe  so,  Jean,  and  I  owe  you  much  this 
night." 

"  Love  is  the  greatest  thing  in  life,  Annie." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  yet " 

"What,   dearie?" 

"It  is  not  the  greatest  thing.  I  thought  once 
that  it  was,  but  I  found  out  through  many  sorrow- 
ful days  that  truth  and  honor  and  courage  are  still 
greater  things,  and  that  love  is  not  worth  a  penny 
bit  unless  it  grows  out  on  the  same  stem  with  them. 
That  is  why  I  love  Will.  I  cannot  separate  his  love 
from  his  honor,  and  truth,  and  courage,  and  so  my 
heart  rests  surely  on  him." 

Nor  did  it  strike  these  two  simple  women  that 
they  had  come  naturally  by  the  faith  inherent  in 
every  true  love,  to  the  faith  apprehended  by  every 
true  lover — 

"  I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much 
Loved  I  not  honor  more." 

"  There  is  one  thing,  Jean,  which  on  this  night  af- 
fects me  beyond  all  other  considerations — it  is  the 


East  or  West,   Home   is   Best         315 

wonderful  ways  by  which  I  have  been  compelled  to 
accept  the  love  and  happiness  God  intended  for  me. 
I  refused  Will,  I  was  determined  to  marry  Roy,  and 
I  have  been  forced  by  a  series  of  unlooked-for  events 
to  put  Roy  far  from  my  thoughts,  and  joyfully  ac- 
cept Will.  I  have  been  compelled  to  take  what  I 
did  not  want,  and  to  do  what  I  hated  to  do,  in  order 
that  I  might  receive  the  desire  of  my  heart.  And  I 
think  constantly  of  what  Professor  Balmuto  said  to- 
me one  night,  when  I  was  in  great  trouble  and  anx- 
iety, about  a  strange  step  I  had  been  forced,  as  I 
thought,  to  take." 

"  You  need  not  have  taken  that  step,  Annie.'* 
"  I  know  that  now,  Jean,  but  my  courage  and  my 
love  failed  me,  and  I  did  take  it.  Well  then,  I  was 
forced  to  come  back  to  the  place  of  my  first  wrong 
step.  And,  Jean  dear,  if  I  took  the  wrong  step  be- 
cause of  your  coming  here,  see  now,  it  was  you  who- 
came,  and  with  sweet  compulsion  forced  me  back 
to  my  point  of  turning,  and  to-night  I  do  thank  God 
with  all  my  heart  that  the  same  goal  is  still  on  the 
same  track.  Oh,  Jean,  as  the  good  Doctor  said,  The 
Hands  of  Compulsion  are  the  Hands  of  Compassion* 
For  the  road  was  made  smooth  to  me,  and  all  the 
way  I  was  carried  safely  in  the  arms  of  Love." 
"  Doctor  Balmuto  was  a  good  man." 


316  The   Hands   of   Compulsion 

"  He  told  me  to  throw  myself  absolutely  upon  the 
belief  that  everything  which  came  to  me  and  was 
given  to  me  was  the  very  thing  I  needed,  the  very 
thing  worth  having.  Trouble  and  entanglements  we 
get  through  our  own  will,  and  our  own  choosing.  It 
is  the  truth,  Jean.  Then  when  we  know  not  what 
to  do,  the  Hands  of  Compulsion  force  us  into  the 
right  way.  This  time  God  used  your  hands,  Jean," 
and  she  lifted  Jean's  hands  and  kissed  them. 

The  next  morning  Sarah  was  early  at  the  Brodick 
house,  for  of  course  there  was  a  great  deal  to  say 
and  to  do  before  two  lives,  hitherto  set  so  far  apart, 
could  become  comfortably  one.  Sarah  fretted,  or 
pretended  to  fret,  o'er  the  break-up  of  such  a  grand 
business  as  she  had  founded.  But  Annie,  on  this  sub- 
ject, would  listen  to  no  arguments. 

"  I  am  resolved,"  she  said  positively.  "  I  want 
a  home.  I  am  weary  of  showrooms." 

"  And  pray,  Miss,  how  will  you  make  a  home  with 
your  man  thousands  o'  miles  away  from  it,  the  better 
half  o'  his  time?" 

"  Will  knows.     He  will  tell  you." 
'  Will  knows !    What  credulous  rubbish !    But  of 
course  Will  is  the  oracle  now — once  it  was  poor 
Aunt  Sarah." 

At  this  perilous  juncture,  Will  and  the  Deacon 


East  or  West,   Home   is   Best         317 

entered  together,  and  Annie's  remark  was  justified. 
"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  said  the  Deacon> 
"  something  you  will  all  be  glad  to  hear.  Will,  our 
Will,  is  going  into  partnership  with  Joseph  Glenden- 
ning,  the  big  shipbuilder.  Many  years  ago  Will 
saved  him  from  drowning,  and  ever  since  he  has  been 
asking  Will  to  join  him  in  his  business.  For  he 
knows,  as  well  as  all  Clydeside  and  Arran,  that  in 
the  matter  of  yachts,  and  yacht-building,  we  may  all 
take  off  our  hats  to  Will  Morrison.  I  remember 
when  he  was  a  slip  of  a  youth,  that  people  used  to 
say,  *  Will  got  a  yacht-master's  certificate  with  his 
baptismal  lines,'  and  I'm  not  denying  it;  for  yachts, 
and  all  that  belongs  to  them,  are  a  kind  of  knowl- 
edge you  bring  into  the  world  with  you." 

"  You  were  once  keen  about  yachts  yourself,  Dea- 
con," said  Will. 

"  In  a  way,  Will,  but  I  am  knowing  nothing  about 
the  mathematics  o'  shipbuilding.  I  never  trusted 
to  figures,  or  easy  lines,  or  small  displacements.  I 
like  a  stout  breeze  and  a  double-reefed  mainsail. 
But  it  is  years  and  years  since  I  raced  a  forty-ton 
cutter  up  the  back  o'  Cantyre,  north  to  Tobermory 
—a  bygone  now — and  we  will  let  it  rest,  but  I  can 
tell  you  all,  I  am  gey  glad  Will  is  going  with  Glen- 
denning,  and  I  have  just  told  him  if  I  can  help  him 


318  The   Hands  of   Compulsion 

in  the  way  o'  siller,  he  can  call  on  me.  Annie  has 
no  reason  to  go  penniless  to  her  new  home." 

"  Right,  Deacon  Brodick,"  said  Sarah.  "  And 
as  Sarah  Lochrigg  is  never  behind  anyone  in  a  kind 
deed,  or  a  good  investment,  I  may  as  well  say  I 
can  go  as  far  as  you,  and  maybe  a  step  or  two 
further." 

"  I  also  have  a  little  to  spare,  if  Will  needs  more 
than  he  has  ready,"  said  Jean,  with  a  nod  and  a 
smile  at  the  happy  young  man.  But  Annie,  who 
had  more  money  in  Glasgow  banks  than  anyone 
dreamed  of,  said  not  a  word.  She  was  thinking  of 
her  grandmother's  and  mother's  silent  money  wait- 
ing so  long  for  her  "emergency";  and  she  was  in- 
clined to  keep  up  a  security  against  ill-fortune  so  de- 
fensible. No  one  noticed  her  reticence  but  Sarah, 
and  Sarah's  remark — made  with  a  kind  of  mocking 
admiration — was  not  clear  in  its  meaning  to  the  un- 
enlightened. 

"  You  are  an  excellent  young  person,  Annie  Brod- 
ick," she  said,  "  and  if  King  Solomon  had  happened 
to  discover  you,  he  would  have  found  the  one  wise 
woman  in  a  thousand,  that  he  didn't  find." 

"  I  generally  know  what  I  am  doing,  Sarah," 
Annie  answered,  with  a  smile  and  an  intelligent  look, 
which  plainly  asked  for  the  subject  to  be  dropped. 


East  or  West,   Home   is   Best         319 

"  You  think  you  know  what  you  are  doing.  Are 
you  sure  o'  that?"  continued  Sarah.  "Lizzie  Mc- 
Donald was  saying  to  me,  only  yestreen,  '  I  hear  the 
Brodicks  are  to  have  a  countess  in  their  family.'  And 
I  said,  '  Indeed,  Miss  McDonald,  and  who  may  that 
be  ?  '  And  she  said,  '  It  is  well  known  that  Miss  Brod- 
ick  is  engaged  to  Earl  Crieff,  and  their  marriage  only 
waiting  till  the  year  o'  mourning  for  the  dead  wife  is 
by  past.  Now,  then,  how  is  that  for  a  report?  And 
I  want  to  know  why  Miss  Brodick  is  putting  away 
the  Earl  o'  Crieff  for  the  like  o'  Will  Morrison? '  " 

Then  Annie,  blushing  divinely,  went  to  her  lover's 
side,  and  he  drew  her  closer  within  his  arms,  and  she 
answered  in  tones  sweeter  than  song, 

"  Because  she  loved  the  sailor  J  " 


M 

8JJ 


